4 am
by abc79-de
Summary: AU Trory-set a few years down the line. Not fluffy. complete.
1. What Remains

STORY TITLE: 4am

TEASER: AU Trory. Based on idea that Rory and Tristan got together after Madeline's party, and were together two years, until graduation. Tristan never got shipped to military academy. Life intervened, and they are now roughly 27.

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING! Well, nothing pertaining to GG.

AN: This idea's been sitting around in my head, and I finally got myself around to working on putting it on paper. This will not be fluffy. If you need fluff, go check out my other Trories! I won't plead for reviews, but I will say that they make me very, very happy :)

"Coffee to go, please?" she smiled politely, even though she wasn't sure of her ability to smile at the moment. It surprised her, with what ease it came. She sat her large purse, which gaped open with its current contents, on the stool next to her. She allowed herself a moment's rest, the first time she'd really been given the opportunity for months.

"Here you go, Miss," the clerk smiled back at her, and exchanged the drink for her money.

"Keep the change," she replied automatically.

"Thanks."

The clerk turned away from her then, and she sat the coffee down in front of her. She looked down at her new black pantsuit, and made a lame attempt to smooth out the wrinkles that had formed from all the sitting she'd done earlier this morning. She sighed, giving up the futile task after a few brisk tugs.

This morning. It hardly seemed real. It was like a surreal dream that she'd had the night before. Except she couldn't wake up from it.

The funeral.

It hadn't been a surprise, but it was shocking nonetheless. She looked now again at the urn that was shoved into her bag, and she smiled at the thought that she should probably pour some coffee into it.

Lorelai would've liked that. In fact, she was surprised it wasn't in the detailed list of demands her mother had drawn up in the last month. She claimed she wasn't going to waste all that time sitting about the hospital, moaning and feeling sorry for herself. She would be productive, and work on her will. Lorelai'd insisted on a binding contract, that way Rory had to follow her every last instruction, no matter how sad she was or how silly the request seemed to her. Her last wishes, as she'd deemed them, had been drawn up by a lawyer and everything. The lawyer had been just one of thousands of visitors she'd had, Luke and Rory having been the two constants in the revolving crowd.

And this is why the urn containing her mother's remains was currently in her purse. It's also why the only contents of the coffin, which was carried around the town square for one last walk (the idea that she'd stolen from Fran Weston's funeral so many years before) was the dressmaker dummy that she'd used so frequently. She said it wasn't something she'd leave to anyone anyway—certainly not Rory. Rory had Lorelai all these years, and no use of learning to sew. She figured now she'd have to find a good tailor.

But the dummy was their little secret. For one, it allowed the mourners to obtain closure at the funeral service, and let Rory have a private mother/daughter goodbye later. Secondly, Lorelai said she couldn't imagine being buried all cooped up with her relatives in the family plot in Hartford. The dummy was what her relatives deserved, she joked. 'Just imagine my mother showing up and finding not me, but that!' she'd howled with delight. She was going to be free.

Tears sprang to Rory's eyes for the millionth time that day. Knowing the end was coming had done nothing to provide solace. Her best friend in the world was gone, and she was alone. How can you ever really prepare for that?

"Miss, are you alright?"

The clerk leaned in, clearly concerned for her well-being. She hadn't touched her coffee, and her only visible actions so far since entering the shop were staring at the urn and tears falling down her cheeks.

"I'm okay, thanks," she said, turning her face away as she attempted to keep up with the flow of tears with just her hand.

"Can I get you some tissue?"

She nodded, not wanting to talk anymore. For the last few days, she'd been talking—about her mother, thanking people for the outpouring of support, flowers, well-wishes, casseroles, etc. She just wanted to sit and have a cup of coffee, with what she had left of her mother.

"Here, use this," a man moved beside her stool, and offered a handkerchief, like it was 1930 and a commonplace action still.

She looked up suddenly, her tears stopping from the shock of seeing him before her.

He smiled at her sadly, and at her inability to take the cloth from his hands, he gently began wiping the moisture from her face himself.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came for the funeral. I slid in the back, I wasn't sure. . . I didn't want to bother you."

"You came."

"I liked Lorelai. I think I even cracked her boyfriend-hating shell one upon a time," he smiled, but in a far off way, as if thinking of a distant memory. Distant indeed.

"You did."

"Rory, I know you're tired of hearing this, but I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," she whispered, not looking directly at the man next to her now. It was too much to think about, and she had a big job to do. She had to let go, and say goodbye for the final time.

He waved his hand at the clerk, who was now asking him if he needed anything, and then he looked at her untouched coffee cup. He hated knowing how much pain she must be in, and he followed her gaze to the urn sitting next to her, sticking out of her purse.

"So, what's with the urn?"

"Oh, I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

"Mother-daughter thing?"

She nodded. He knew. She hadn't thought that he would have retained the knowledge he once had so well, but then again she had, so why shouldn't he?

"What was buried then?"

"Dressmaker dummy."

"Ah, of course."

"It was sweet of you to come."

"What are you doing now?" He felt suddenly brave, not wanting her to flee. She seemed to have ordered her coffee as more of a comfort measure than a drink. It was like her security blanket, warm and fragrant.

"Oh, I have to go back to the Inn."

"The Dragonfly?"

"How did you. . .?"

He shrugged, as her blue eyes widened with surprise at him. She obviously hadn't expected him to know such developments.

"No, the grounds of the old Independence Inn."

"Do you want some company?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Rory," he said softly. "Please?"

"Tristan," she bit her lip, not quite sure how to go on. "Why are you here now?"

He knew what she meant. It'd been nine years after all. The last time he'd seen her, the EMT's were loading her onto an ambulance, him calling out to her that he'd see her in a few minutes at the hospital.

"Is someone meeting you in Stars Hollow?"

"No."

"There are some things you should know."

"I don't want to get into all that. It's in the past."

"Fine, but there are some things that I want to know."

"Then you should have been there at the time," she said angrily, not wanting to get into their disastrous past now of all times. She was feeling fragile enough, having to say goodbye to her mother, she couldn't relive the horror of losing him, too.

"You're right, I should have."

She looked at him, confused by his tone. He didn't sound guilty, but he did sound apologetic. She had tried and tried to imagine what could have kept him away from her, never coming up with an excuse good enough other than sudden death. But here he was, in the flesh, looking at her, asking to come with her.

"Okay. You can come with me."

He nodded, but didn't move. She looked from him to her coffee mug.

"How's Luke?"

"He. . . He couldn't come today. He said his goodbyes at the hospital."

"Is he back at the house?"

Rory shook her head. "He took off for a while, he said he couldn't be in the house. He said she was just everywhere, all over the town."

Tristan nodded. He knew the feeling. It was what led him to join the military two weeks after the accident. Going to Yale as planned, being in Connecticut at all—Rory seemed to permeate every inch of the state to him. He just couldn't do it.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"For what?"

"Coming. Lorelai would have liked that you came."

"You're welcome."

"Dad came."

"I saw."

"He's not doing so well, either."

"How are you?"

She looked up at him again, tears brimming her bottom eyelid yet again. "It's weird. I expect her to come barging in here and put her arm around me, to comfort me."

He put his own arm around her, feeling he had nothing to lose at this point. The worst that could happen was that she'd shrug him away, and he might go another nine years without seeing her. But she didn't. She let him pull her frame towards him, and the tears fall. She wondered how much time would pass before she didn't feel like crying at least once every ten minutes. She couldn't imagine the pain lessening, though she knew that it had with losing Tristan. Eventually, she got used to the hurt, the emptiness. She moved on, and began to live her life. And now she'd do it again.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"I need to not think."

He nodded. "Probably not going to happen anytime soon," he smiled.

"Yeah. Can we get out of here?"

He nodded, and waved over the clerk. "Can we get this to go?" he asked, pointing to her untouched coffee cup. The clerk smiled at them sympathetically, and handed Tristan the cup. He stood, and watched as she lifted the purse into her arms, like she was carrying a baby. He put his hand in the small of her back and led her towards the door of the shop, and out towards his car.


	2. Treading Trodden Trails

She remained silent as he drove out of Hartford and towards the country. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though he wasn't sure what it was they weren't saying. It'd been his choice, both to be at the funeral and to make his presence known afterwards. He easily could have left without her being the wiser. All the mourners were so wrapped up in their own grief, no one really noticed him. This was her own personal hell, and he knew that. He wasn't here to upset her further. He just couldn't stay away now.

Originally he was just coming to pay his respects to Lorelai. Once upon a time, she'd tried to set all that had gone wrong right again. He'd been too stubborn to listen to her, though. He wondered if Rory even knew about that. The two women told each other almost everything, but he wasn't sure if she knew about Lorelai's last conversation with him years ago. When he got to the large church, he saw her, standing alone at the coffin. She looked so lost, so alone—not surrounded by her usual web of supportive friends and family. The girl that everyone loved. Himself included. He expected at the least to find her husband at her side, but it seemed that there was no one now that she'd let hold her. It was in that moment that he decided to go after her when she left the gravesite.

He had so many questions.

"Turn here."

Her voice startled him, the suddenness of it. He'd been on autopilot the whole way thus far. He looked to her, as she sat motionless, still clutching her large handbag.

"I remember," he smiled. He was sure that no matter how long he lived, he'd never forget any of the small back roads leading to the tiny town she grew up in. They were engrained in him like neural connections in his brain.

She gave a faint nod, and turned back to look out the window as they neared their destination. It was all going too fast for her.

"Where are you supposed to scatter the ashes?"

"The pond, out by the potting shed."

Talk about a place filled with overwhelming memories. He knew Lorelai would have chosen that location as a symbol of her freedom and independence, but he wondered if she could have foreseen her wishes bringing the two of them back here together as well.

"_Tristan, shh," she giggled softly, attempting to open the door. His arms were wrapped around her, and his mouth was moving down her neck now, making her efforts more futile. "It's stuck."_

"_Allow me," he said, prying himself away from her just long enough to jimmy the door open. "Where are we?"_

_"My first house," she said proudly, turning to face him again. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and he could feel his heart beating against his chest from their very recent warm-up in his car. He looked inside and saw a cot under one window and a bathtub with a curtain drawn around it in the opposite corner. He knew instantly why she'd navigated him here._

"_We can do this somewhere with a real bed," he said as he continued to look around the meager surroundings._

"_We have one hour until Lorelai sends out the search party, along with condom-sniffing dogs," she poked his chest playfully. "We don't have time for anywhere else. If we go in the Inn, we're sure to have a mob harangue us before we get to a room."_

"_Rory, this should be special for you, in a fancy hotel or something." He smoothed back some hair from her face, longing to kiss her, but afraid to make up her mind. _

"_You want to wait, after," she bit her lip, staring into his eyes. He knew what she was alluding to—he could still feel her hands all over him, and her soft moans as he moved his hands to places before untouched._

"_No, but, you deserve," he began, but she put a finger to his lips._

"_There is no perfect place, and this place is magical, believe me. And as long as I'm with you," she paused as her breath caught in her throat. He studied her face, landing once again on her eyes. The moonlight lit up her face, and suddenly he wanted to drown in the blue orbs. He suddenly realized that she really didn't care about anything but him in this moment, and he gathered her up in his arms and carried her inside the small shed._

He wondered if she could look at these grounds and not think of him, as he pulled the car to a stop near the pond. She made no move to exit the car.

"You ready?"

She shook her head, and placed her hand on the urn.

"You don't need the ashes to keep her with you," he said quietly.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she turned slightly to look at him for the first time since they left Hartford.

"She got me through everything," she attempted to hold back the flood of impending tears. They'd been coming regularly for the last three days.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, I have to do this, alone," she paused, but seemed to be thinking. "Will you take a walk with me afterwards?"

He nodded, and watched as she opened the car door, removed the urn from her bag, and closed it behind her. He fought to stay in his seat, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He hated seeing her in this much pain. She was being brave, for whom he wasn't sure, possibly for herself. She walked down the gentle slope of the hill to the water's edge.

She stood, a warm wind whipping her hair across her face, staring out over the relatively calm water. A few ripples danced across the top of the pond when the wind picked up. She pulled from her deepest determination. Lorelai wanted this.

_"I don't think I can do all of this."_

_She'd been thinking this very thought for weeks, since they found out the prognosis. She'd tried to be strong, keeping up the light tone her mother had set. _

_Lorelai looked at Rory, who was reading over the legal pad. "Hey, look at me."_

_Rory did as asked, and the first tears she'd let her mother see her cry over her imminent loss fell from her eyes. Lorelai reached out for her hand. _

"_This wasn't my choice, Hun, but I need to know that you'll take care of things."_

"_I'm going to miss you," she whispered, trying to hold back a sob, and squeezed her hand._

"_I'm gonna miss you, too," she teared up as well, pulling on Rory's hand. The two embraced, holding onto each other as hard as they could for the longest time. At long last, they pulled apart when Luke opened the door, returning from his coffee run for the girls. _

It was just so final.

She turned back slightly, almost to see if the car were still there. She saw Tristan watching her from the driver's seat, staying put, true to his word. Waiting for her. She decided that patience had never been a virtue of his, and if she hesitated too much longer, he'd come to check on her.

Everyone has their limits.

"Bye, Mom," she said out loud as she shook the contents out over the pond. She watched as some gray ash caught itself up in a ripple and danced its way into the middle of the pond. She smiled, knowing Lorelai would have loved that.

She had that thought a lot lately.

She was ready for him now.

She sank down to the ground, as if crumbling, and wrapped her arms around her body. He was at her side in less than a minute. She tried to focus her thoughts on the sound his dress shoes made as they temporarily flattened the grass in his path; on the realness of his form as he crouched down beside her; on the warmth emanating down her arm when he placed an open hand on her shoulder. So much seemed surreal to her, but she grasped out for the tangible.

"Ready for that walk?"

His voice was steady and solid. Nodding, she took his hand and let him help her up.

-

"So, how long are you in town?"

"Indefinitely."

She glanced at him, and he continued. "I'm thinking of switching gears. I'm taking some time off."

"From what?"

"The military."

She stopped and turned to face him on the narrow path. They had been winding their way through the park.

"Why did you really come?"

He looked into her eyes, so full of pain and unanswered questions. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She nodded. "I'd probably do the same."

"No one's as close to me as Lorelai was to you."

"That's sad."

He shrugged. "Why are you here alone?"

"I wanted to be."

"I doubt that."

"Tristan," she sighed. "I'm tired. This has been hell. Can we not do this now?"

"You aren't just going back to that house all by yourself, Rory," his tone was adamant. "You can't be alone now."

She bit her lip, and turned to look at the potting shed, now just on the other side of the path. The Independence Inn had been bought out after the fire, and rebuilt. It wasn't really the same inside, but they'd left the grounds almost exactly the same. The potting shed was still standing, and she moved to towards it like a moth to a flame. He watched her as she moved to the small structure, his mind flooding quickly.

She opened the door, and looked inside. Gone were the contents she was used to seeing, the set up for a studio apartment. It now held actual gardening tools, and only a small pathway to walk through. He came up behind her and put his hands to rest on her shoulders.

"Everything's different."

"You want me to take you home?"

"Yeah. Please."

He closed the door without looking, not wanting his memory of the place tainted. He followed her back up the car. She stopped suddenly.

"I have to go to Ms. Patty's."

"The dance studio, why?"

"The town, they're having food there, for after," she stopped, not wanting to mention the funeral again. "They expect me there."

"Okay. Come on."

The truth was he wasn't ready to leave her and she wasn't ready to be left. He was going to take her anywhere on this green earth that she wished. They got back in the car and made their way slowly through town together.

AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and all the kind words and assurance in my story. I know I've left out a lot of detail, but I promise all will come in future chapters. And I promise, even though Lorelai is gone, she'll have a major role later on.


	3. Tidbits

He stopped the car again, just down the block from the dance studio. People were spilling out of the space, it seemed no place was quite large enough to contain the grief that the town was feeling. It seemed to mirror Rory's pain in every way.

"So, thanks for coming with me."

"There's no other place I'd be."

"Do you want to come in?"

"Will it make it harder on you, with the questions and everything?"

She seemed to consider this for a moment, weighing how many people would even notice him or remember a happier time when he used to escort her around this small town. No one had mentioned him to her since word of the accident got around—Lorelai had made sure no one bothered Rory about the entire incident. Of course she'd known that everyone had discussed her very private pain, but she had been so glad at the time for the lack of mention to her personally. Her breaking point was always just at the surface for so long back then.

Not that it was so high now.

Her silence gave him his answer. He was ready to go if she didn't want him. After all this time he shouldn't have expected a different outcome.

"No, I'd like you to come in."

He looked up at her, in honest surprise. "Okay. Yeah, I'll come."

She smiled, and he immediately got out of the car and moved to get her door for her. People looked at her with sympathy as they approached the door. He could feel her weakening again, and moved to put his arm around her shoulder to help support her. She didn't shirk him off, rather, she moved closer to his frame.

"Rory, darling, come here!"

"Hi, Patty. Thank you, for doing all this," she said, pulling away from Tristan just long enough to kiss Patty's cheek. The older woman pulled Rory to her, holding her for just a beat too long. Rory became uncomfortable and moved back to Tristan.

"Anything for you, honey, anything. You let us know if we can do anything else?"

"I will. I should make the rounds," she nodded. Patty smiled sadly, and brought her hanky back up to her own face as she turned away.

"Are you sure you're up to all this? Maybe Luke had the right idea, maybe you should," Tristan began to whisper in her ear.

"RORY!"

The two whipped around, as Tristan was interrupted mid-sentence. Rory stepped back, and he looked from her to the man that was moving towards her quickly.

"My God, I came as soon as I heard, are you all right?"

The other man moved to pull her to him, and she looked over his shoulder at Tristan. He looked at her questioningly, but she continued to look shanghaied. Different from her expression this morning as he stood in front of her, wiping away her tears. She now looked shell-shocked and cornered.

"Of course you're not all right! Have you eaten anything, you look frightfully thin," the man pulled back slightly and gave her a once over before noticing Tristan standing next to them.

"Oh, hello. I'm sorry; I didn't notice anyone there. I'm Connor Reeves," the man held out a hand to Tristan. "Who are you?"

"Uh, Connor, could you go get me some water?" Rory interjected suddenly. He nodded, obviously confused by her reaction, but moved off to fulfill her request. She moved immediately towards Tristan.

"You need to go."

"What, why? Who is that?"

"Please, Tristan. I appreciate you being here, earlier, but you have to go. Please."

Her tone was urgent, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why she didn't want him to interact with Connor. He wondered if this was the husband, or if she'd really gone through with the wedding. She wasn't wearing a ring, and if this was her husband, why was he just finding out about Lorelai? His head hurt from holding in all these questions, though he was asking with his eyes.

"Okay."

He turned to go, to walk out of her life yet again. She stood watching him for a beat, but couldn't seem to will her feet to stay planted. She hurried after him, catching him just as he got out the door, and pulled him off to the side.

"Come by the house, later. I'll be there, alone," she said, moving to kiss his cheek before disappearing back inside the studio.

He watched her disappear, standing in place mesmerized. He looked around, recognizing too many faces, and got into his car heading back out of town.

-

Tristan pulled up to the Gilmore residence hours later, wondering if she were there yet. He'd gone back to Hartford, trying to rest, but no sleep would come to him. At long last, he'd abandoned trying to stay away, and returned yet again.

He got out of his car and walked up to the front door. He knocked, and moments later the door opened.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Luke crossed his arms over his chest as he stepped out onto the porch.

"Uh, is Rory here?" he asked, suddenly nervous.

"Look, I'm sure you have no idea, but Rory's mom just," Luke began, the color drained from his face.

"Luke, I know. I was with her, earlier. She asked me to come by."

"She doesn't need you around. You weren't there for her before," he started.

"That was years ago."

"I think you should go."

The two men stared at each other, seemingly never going to agree on this point.

"Luke!" Rory's voice rang out, as she hurried up the walk. She saw the two men, looking as if they were having a stare-down. "When did you get back?"

"I'm not really here, I just forgot something," he muttered. "Do you need me to stay?"

"No, Luke, thanks. You can go."

He looked at her, then Tristan. "Fine. I'll have my cell on, if you need anything."

"Thanks, Luke," she smiled at him gratefully, as he picked up a bag and walked off to his truck.

She turned to Tristan, and gave him a hesitant smile. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

She fidgeted nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I think, maybe we should talk. Is that okay?"

He nodded, wondering just how this would go. He'd tried to imagine it over the last few years, as had she. Neither had been successful in seeing something that would bring the other back into their life. Both hated that this was the circumstance.

He followed her into the house, and it was like walking into a time capsule. Almost nothing was changed, save the absence of the dressmaker dummy. The last time he'd been in the house, it'd been in the middle of the front room, with the dress that Lorelai was making for Rory on it.

_He was late to pick her up, as usual. He'd been on time for their first official date, and both women had scolded him relentlessly for doing so. He let himself into the house, only to find that not only was Rory not ready, but she was standing on a pedestal wearing a half finished dress that Lorelai was placing pins into as Rory turned slowly around in a circle, a soda in one hand and a New Yorker in the other._

_"Oh, now, come on!" he protested the sight._

_"Hey, if I don't get this done, she's going to be going commando under her gown next week," Lorelai said with pins between her teeth. "And as much as I'm for spicing up the ceremony, I'd prefer it to be someone else's kid that provides the show."_

_Rory giggled and continued her small circle. "It'll just be five minutes. We're just hemming."_

"_All right. So, are you going to make me something fancy to wear?" he teased Lorelai._

"_I thought you'd never ask, how do you feel about pink?" Lorelai's eyes sparkled maniacally as she looked up to him from Rory's dress._

"_OW! That's flesh under the fabric!" Rory protested. _

"_Sorry, Babe. All done, go take it off," she instructed. Rory jumped down and went down the hall. Tristan stood from the couch, moving to follow her._

"_Oh, no, forget it, Loverboy. You stay away in here and entertain me."_

_He smirked. "Oh, Lorelai, I knew you couldn't resist me."_

_She rolled her eyes. "Careful, I have pins and I know how to use them."_

_Rory came out five minutes later, as promised, to find them chatting, and she handed the dress back to her mother. Lorelai situated it on the dummy, and asked what their plans were for the evening._

"_Grandfather asked us to have dinner at his house, and Richard and Emily will be joining us."_

"_Uh-oh."_

_Rory looked at her mother. "Don't say it."_

"_I'm sorry, I just wish you luck. Much luck. I wish you Buckingham Palace filled with four-leaf clovers worth of luck."_

"_Grandpa is behind this."_

"_Emily isn't. She doesn't think you two should be so serious. And she's vocal about it. It's like a trained parrot, and she calls me saying 'She's too young, she's too young.'"_

"_Yeah, well, she doesn't get to decide this," Rory smiled, taking Tristan's hand. "Janlan thought the get together would warm her up to the fact that two years has passed and this isn't fleeting."_

"_Well, if you need help blinking again, come back here, and I'll force feed you both ice cream and take out the wire taps she'll have placed on your persons," Lorelai smiled, patting them both on the back._

"_Thanks, Mom. Night," she kissed her cheek._

_Tristan looked back at the room as he held the door open for Rory, and saw Lorelai cranking up the stereo before moving back over to kneel in front of the dummy, set for a night of finishing Rory's graduation dress._

"Would you like something to drink?"

He shook his head. "Can we not do the formalities, I think we're way beyond that."

She looked up at him, not surprised, but unsure. He was right, but the formality was all that she knew right now. He wanted it to be like it was, well, she wasn't sure it was possible. She also wasn't sure they knew any other way.

"O-okay."

"Who was that guy?"

"Connor?"

He nodded, still standing next to the couch. She sat on the coffee table, looking down at her hands.

"He was my husband."

"Was?"

"We got a divorce. I left, two years ago."

"You met him at Yale?"

She shook her head. "No, after that. I was in Namibia, teaching."

"Africa?"

She nodded. His mind was racing, with more questions than before. "What were you doing there?"

"Teaching. I joined the Peace Corps right out of college. I wanted. . . I wanted so much. I wanted to live and see another world. I wanted to make a difference. I was still so broken, I don't know if that makes any sense."

"Broken?"

"Emotionally," she looked up at him quickly. "Nothing made much sense after you left. I got through college and just needed to get away from everything I knew."

"Funny. That's why I went into the army."

"That's right. And you're out now?"

"My time was up. I could have stayed longer, made it a career track, but I don't want that. I've seen the world, but now I think it's time for me to be here, find out what I really want to do."

She listened to him, relieved to hear about his life. She'd wondered about him every day for the last nine years. And she'd had a very vivid imagination. What he wasn't telling her was the one thing that had truly plagued her since the last night she'd seen him.

"Why didn't you come back to me?"

He looked into her eyes, his heart breaking for the pain in her voice. He wasn't sure if she was really up for this conversation now, but one thing was for sure. He was going to have to answer her.

AN: Again, thanks for the reviews. I know it's sad, but that was why I added the 'non-fluffy' warning. I know after tonight's eppy, the angst and sadness was flowing. I cried for most of the hour. The show was just heart breaking tonight. I digress.


	4. Coming Undone

"I did come."

His tone was filled with all the anger and frustration that had never left him over the last few years. There was no outlet for him letting that go. It'd nearly killed him to leave after only a glimpse of her tattered body, hooked up to machines and monitors, though the window on the hospital door. He wasn't given a choice in the matter, however. She looked at him now in disbelief—obviously they'd never told her he was there.

_As soon as they finished the tests they insisted on putting him through, to make sure there was no internal damage to him, he bolted out to find Rory. He figured their families would be arriving soon—he had no idea what shape she was in or how long he'd been imprisoned in a hospital room._

_All he really wanted to do was be there with her._

_He finally found out she was in the ICU, and made his way to the desk. He asked for her, and got a nurse with an attitude, asking if he were family of the patient._

"_No, I'm her boyfriend. Her family probably isn't here, someone should be with her."_

"_Tristan!" Lorelai came up behind him, in a full-panic frenzy. _

"_Lorelai, thank God," he said, feeling relief._

"_What the hell happened?"_

"_Are you the mother?"_

"_Yes, is she okay?" Tears flowed from her eyes. She'd never been more terrified. She could tell by the look on the nurse's face that the news was not good. _

"_It's too early to tell. Come with me." _

_And with that, he was left outside as Lorelai was escorted in to the room. The nurse's words reverberated around his brain, as if bouncing off and hitting him over and over again. His breath drew raggedly, and he reached out for the wall to steady himself. He looked on through the window, at the sight of her lying there, so pale and fragile. Only moments later Emily was there, and his world grew very dark. _

"What do you remember from that night?" he asked, moving to sit across from her on the couch.

"Not much. I'd lost . . . a lot of blood. I was in and out of consciousness. The nurse said I kept waking up, calling for you. She asked me why you weren't there," she bit her lip.

"Do you remember the accident?"

She nodded numbly. "A little. I remember just before better," she trailed off.

_He wouldn't tell her their next destination. After much convincing, he'd gotten Lorelai to consent to his taking Rory all night—as the two Gilmore women were off to bum around Europe for the summer the following day. Tonight was just theirs. It was their whole summer._

_They'd walked from her house in the warm night air, the sound of cicadas serenading them. He walked slowly, his arm lightly placed around her waist, just enjoying the feel of her in step beside him._

_He would miss that the most._

_When he stopped in front of the pond, she turned in and kissed him. One hand at the back of his head, her fingers sliding up through his hair; the other resting lightly on his chest._

_A chaste kiss, by their standards._

_Enough to make an on-looker in need of a cold shower, however. _

_Their kisses were never simple. _

"_Come on," he urged, pulling her toward the water. _

"_I don't have a suit," she said, realizing his intention as he slid his dress shirt off of his body. _

"_You don't need one."_

_His eyes, even in the darkness (or especially, perhaps), pierced into her. He needed what she did—the sense of never-ending time. This evening of limbo, his flesh pressed into hers, weightless in the water as if even the laws of nature didn't apply to them._

_He moved slowly all evening, and she gladly followed his lead. She wrapped herself around him, her lips fusing with his. He moved against her—within her, and leaving no spot on her body untouched by his hands. They glided over her, through the water, memorizing. She bit down softly on his shoulder; close, so close now. His lips now at her ear, coaxing her with raw words. _

"Rory, there's something you don't know," he began, putting his hand on her knee.

"I doubt that—God, I wish I didn't know," she shook her head bitterly. "You left because they told you."

He felt like she'd cast him out into the middle of a lake on a fishing lure. He was so close, but now back at a loss, amidst too much unknown information. Never could anyone have told him anything about her to push him away. It was obvious she didn't understand that.

"Told me what?"

A knock came at the door then, undoubtedly a sympathetic friend with more food, tissues, or hugs. She looked at him intensely—the sadness penetrating—then moved to the front door.

Her dad stood in front of her, his suit rumpled, his appearance completely disheveled. "Hey, kid."

"Dad," she managed as she fell into his waiting arms. They held each other up. In a way she felt like his equal in this, like they'd both lost their mother. He'd always been more like a friend than a father, but now he was the only parent she had left.

She hated the thoughts she had now.

"I saw Connor earlier. You okay?"

She nodded. "He left. He just came to check on me."

"He still loves you," Chris informed her, as if she wasn't aware.

She averted her gaze. "Grandma told him?"

Chris nodded. "She's good at those things."

"It's not right with him, Dad. We wanted different things."

"You need someone right now, Rory," he urged, before taking notice of the man sitting in the living room. "You've got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed, moving past Rory and advancing on Tristan.

"Hello, Chris," Tristan acknowledged him. He was unaware of how their relationship was now, but the man who hadn't bothered to come to their high school graduation—at which she was valedictorian—had little respect in Tristan's eyes. He'd been too busy, or whatever the excuse, to be there for her at most every major milestone. His fatherly instincts did seem to kick in at some interesting times.

"Get the hell out of here!" he moved closer to address Tristan. "She doesn't need you right now. Haven't you done enough, really?"

Tristan held his tongue, not wanting to ruin his chances of getting to stay and at least letting her know the truth. His temper would never be described as good—short and fierce, perhaps. He tried for her. He always had.

"Dad, stop it!"

Both men turned to look at her. It was obvious to both of them that she hadn't slept in days—she had probably only ingested coffee for the same time span. She rubbed her temples and sighed.

"Dad, please, go back to your room at the inn. I'll come see you tomorrow."

He looked at his grownup daughter and nodded. He knew she had enough of her mother in her to handle herself in any situation, but he also knew the hell she'd gone through after their graduation. He knew it was all because of him.

"Fine. Get some rest, honey," he instructed, kissing the top of her head. She walked him to the door, and he turned to face her once more.

"Why is he here?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"I'm not entirely sure."

"I'm sorry, for acting like that, I,"

"It's okay, Dad. This isn't an easy time."

"I miss her. I always have, though. It's worse for you, I know—you were her whole world," he smiled sadly, touching her cheek.

Stopping the tears wasn't an option now. She nodded and he held her against him once more before turning to go.

Tristan stood as she re-entered the living room, looking even more drained than before. She didn't need to talk anymore tonight—that fact was blatantly obvious to him. He'd waited nine years to fill in the gaps of what happened that night—he could wait one more day. To have seen her at all was enough for him right in this moment. There were more important things to consider just now.

"I'm sorry, he's just upset."

"You want me to go?" he asked knowingly.

"Can you stay?"

"You're exhausted, you need to sleep," he argued.

"I know. I just don't think I will unless—please, just stay with me until I fall asleep, then if you want, you can go, but," she rambled.

"I'll stay."

She nodded gratefully, and led the way upstairs to her mother's bedroom.

_They'd spread towels out over the cot inside the potting shed, and she now lie chest to chest against him, another towel partially covering her backside. The heat off their bodies had lulled her to sleep, her head nestled in the valley of his shoulder. He stroked her hair as it dried, hating to wake her up, but knowing they had little time to waste. Maybe it was selfish of him to steal these moments, but most nights that she lay in his arms he watched her, enthralled. These most intimate of moments, as her breath rolled in and out of her like the tides, while they lie intertwined and completely vulnerable; they seemed too precious to allow sleep to claim him. He continued to hold her until at last he could wait no longer. His watched beeped, alerting him of the midnight hour, and kissed her awake._

He knew he wouldn't sleep much tonight. His only concern was that she did. He stood next to the bed as she slipped under the covers. She drew back the blankets on the other side, an invitation. He kicked off his shoes and slid in next to her. She pulled one of his arms under her shoulders and curled into him. He smiled, his body immediately readjusting and pulling her in tighter against him, as if out of habit. It was like riding a bicycle. It wasn't that they'd done this before—she needed it just as it'd been once upon a time, as if no time had passed between them. He stroked her hair soothingly, and sure enough, within moments he heard the familiar cadence of her unconscious breathing.

She was finally asleep.


	5. Time Reveals

She could hear birds chirping, as if talking passionately, on a branch that brushed against the bedroom window. She now lay on her side, and if she just opened her eyes, she'd see those birds. Robins, most likely, as spring was teasing the Northeast. The area was enjoying unusually warm weather, something everyone had seemed to mention yesterday, so as to have anything else to talk about.

Maybe if she didn't open her eyes, none of it would be true.

She'd be back in her apartment, needing to hurry as she'd overslept, and might be late for work.

Perhaps the hand would disappear from her stomach, the hand attached to the man that lie just behind her, his arm draped over her waist.

That last part she wasn't sure she wanted to disappear. The events of last night were coming back to her—the abrupt beginnings and endings of conversation. He'd seemed confused when she alluded to why he left. Was it just that he wanted to hear her say the words? Those awful words, ones she'd never been quite able to say out loud.

"You awake?"

She nodded, still not opening her eyes. There was no need—he could feel the movements of her body, but was unable to see her face in the position they were currently in. It was funny, she realized now, the things that you miss about someone. His voice was thick, still laden with sleep. She'd always been able to tell if he'd been watching her sleep or actually asleep by his voice. It always gave him away. So many nights in their past he'd watched her in the dark. He'd done it on that last night, just before the accident. After he'd taken her skinny-dipping in the pond.

It was like you remember people in parts.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good. Thank you for staying. I didn't know if you would think. . . I didn't mean to. . . This wasn't about sex."

She finally turned to face him, her eyes now open. He looked at her for a moment, as if taking in what she was saying. There'd been no sexual contact, just his arms around her. There was enough underlying sexual connotations from their contact (as innocent as it was) in both of their minds—perhaps that was what concerned her.

"I know. I didn't stay to have sex with you."

She nodded. "I mean, I didn't think that you wanted that, I just wanted to be clear."

"Can I ask you a question?" he realized that his arm was still around her waist, and he didn't want to remove it. She'd turned around under the weight of it—surely she realized it was there.

"Sure."

"Why didn't you introduce me to Connor?"

"Oh," she now looked down at his arm over her waist. He wondered if she'd say something about it, either because she was uncomfortable or she wanted to change the subject.

But she didn't.

"I didn't want to have to explain it all."

"About the divorce?"

"No about you."

"You never told him about me?"

She shook her head, closing her eyes again. "No."

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't so unusual not to discuss past lovers with new ones. But something about the pained look on her face told him that it wasn't as simple as that.

"So, what happened with you two?"

"It just didn't work out. We wanted different things."

"It seemed like he was still in love with you. Is that mutual?"

"No. That was the problem. I didn't love him like he loved me."

He wanted to ask, but didn't. The reason her marriage broke up was none of his business. Just because they were close at one time didn't give him the right to assume certain liberties.

"He wanted to have kids, and he started pressuring me about it. I finally couldn't take it anymore," she paused, "Have you been married?"

"No. I haven't been in any one area long enough to—that's not true. I haven't wanted to be in a relationship."

Both were quiet for a moment. She hadn't wanted to be in a relationship after him—and she hadn't for a long time. Connor had been different. He loved her, from the moment he first saw her, and she knew it. He was so adamant about his feelings for her, and so kind. She assumed that her affection for him would grow over time. Not into what she and Tristan had. . . she had no such hopes. But it hadn't, and she'd never been very good at lying.

"So, tell me about Africa."

"It was amazing. It was hard to go on one hand; I mean leaving Mom was hard. And now, I wish I had that time. . . But then it seemed like my only lifeline. When I first got there I relished in going out and really discovering the area. The people were amazing. I taught in a small village, elementary school-aged kids. Often times they'd invite me to their homes for dinner. The people there were so gracious—they wanted to take care of me since I was a single woman, even though I had so much more than they did."

He listened to her, completely enthralled in her story. Here was this woman that he knew so well, yet there were entire chunks of her history that he would have sworn were the tales of a completely separate person. She could probably say the same of him.

"I'd been there over a year when I met Connor. He's a photographer, and he ended up there doing a shoot for a collection he wanted to put together. Anyway, when he was done with his work, he stayed with me, trying to talk me into coming back to the States. I wasn't ready to go back, and I signed on for another term. I think I was trying to push him away then—I knew he wanted to marry me," she looked down at the last part, unable to meet his eyes.

Tristan had no words. He'd imagined that she moved on, but to know that she felt she had to go so far to get on with her life—to carve out a completely different existence—it was mind-boggling. He'd left to give her that space; he'd even told her so in the letter he'd sent her. Apparently that hadn't been enough.

"So, you stayed?"

"Yeah. He left, he told me he would go with or without me. I think he thought I'd change my mind, realizing that I had to be with him, but it wasn't how I felt. I told him as much, I was fair about it."

"So, he left you in Africa?"

"Yep. He left and went to find Mom. He introduced himself, and told her that he wanted to marry me."

"Huh."

"The next time I called home, Mom told me that he really seemed to love me, and asked if I loved him. I told her that I cared for him, but I wasn't sure it was right."

"I know."

"Wh—what? How?"

"Lorelai found me after that."

"You knew I was married?"

"No. I didn't know if it happened, exactly."

_He had no idea how she'd managed to find him—he'd been in Germany until just hours before. No one was supposed to know he was home. He had a long enough leave to come home to Hartford for some time with his family. It was rare, and he decided the time off at home would be good for him. Standing now in the foyer of his parents' house, Lorelai stood in front of him. She looked concerned, and had just said that she had to talk to him, it was an emergency. _

_It was about Rory._

"_Look, Lorelai, it's been made very clear to me that she doesn't want me in her life."_

"_Tristan, she might be getting married."_

_His attention was fully caught, and he was surprised at the strength of his own reaction even after this time had passed. His stomach clenched down and he felt it fall out. It was as if she'd just punched him instead of saying the words she had spoken._

"_So?"_

"_Don't act all unaffected, Tristan. This is me."_

"_Look, it's her life. It's not my business."_

"_So, you don't care that she's going to marry some man that she doesn't really love because she thinks you don't care about her?"_

"_Why would she think that?"_

"_You never came back, Tristan."_

_He looked at her in confusion. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe she didn't know the fine details of the night—she hadn't been right there when he was told to leave. She'd been where he'd wanted to be so desperately; with Rory. At her side._

"_What do you want from me?"_

"_I just thought you'd like all the information. She still loves you," she informed him._

"_No, she doesn't. Now, if you'll excuse me," he couldn't believe her, it was too much now. _

"_Tristan, I am not making light of this. She is going to marry another man. Can you live with that?"_

"_I don't have a choice."_

"_Yes, you do. That's why I'm here. Look, I don't know for sure why you didn't come back. I know you were there at first, and you wanted to be with her. I could see it in your eyes, and I'm sorry that I didn't make them let you in—I was in panic mode. I just wanted to see her. I can guess what happened," she said knowingly, "But I don't know. Just know this—Rory wants you in her life. The question is, do you want her in yours?"_

"_It is not as simple as that."_

"_You're right, it's not simple. But it is possible."_

_He stood, speechless now, looking at her. She nodded, having said what she came to say. She wasn't meddling—she didn't want Rory to make a mistake. He couldn't put what he'd thought to be true for so long behind him. _

"_Okay, well, I should go."_

_He nodded, watching as she turned and walked out the front door, leaving him in her wake._

Rory continued to look at him, but now it was his turn to look away.

"I can't believe she told you that."

He shrugged. "Obviously she was right, you didn't love him."

She nodded, and put her hand on his cheek, turning his head towards her a bit. "You thought that I didn't want you around?"

He nodded stiffly, not wanting to cry. He wasn't a crier. Except evidently, when it came to her.

"Oh."

He didn't know. It was the only thought in her head. What she couldn't figure out was why he would think such a thing, especially after the evening they'd shared just before. They were barely two separate people anymore before the accident ripped everything apart.

"I thought, at first when you didn't come, that maybe something had happened," her voice broke, her tears not as controlled as his.

"To me?"

"I thought maybe you were in worse shape than me, or that you'd. . ."

"You were afraid I'd died?"

"No one would tell me anything, and I," she shook with the fresh tears. It was all too vivid in her memory.

"I'm so sorry," he pulled her in close to him, cradling her against his chest. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, not knowing what else to say. He knew the terror of not knowing if she were going to live. He had woken up in a cold sweat for months, hearing that nurse's voice in his mind.

She pulled back a little, the tears ceasing a bit. She looked long and hard into his eyes, at the man that she'd seen her entire future in at one time. It was all still there, but clouded over by so many roadblocks—the known and the unknown. Looking into his eyes now was like a window into the past. She needed answers.

"You said you came. What made you leave?"

He looked back into her eyes, willing her to take back the question. It all came down to this—his weakness, guilt, and broken heart. He wanted to preface his response by saying he knew now that he should have fought harder, pressed the issues more, taken whatever was thrown in his way, anything but walk out of the hospital. There was no way after she heard his words that she could accept them. He hadn't done enough.

And now he had to tell her.

AN: about the cliffhangers—if I continued on with the next portions, these chapters would run all together, creating just one large mega-chapter. It's more fun this way, as well, I won't lie. Thank you for each and every review, I'm so glad you're enjoying my angsty drama.


	6. Pushed As Far As I Could Go

AN: You reviewers rock. I feel so bad, you all keep telling me I'm making you cry. Which is kind of the point, it's supposed to be sad, but I feel so bad that you're so sad. . . I wish I could make you all smile. This chapter probably won't help. But it will reveal why he left. . . enjoy. (or just, cry less)

"Tristan, please. I have to know," she put her hand on his arm, after he continued to be silent.

He sat up, moving away from her. He couldn't get the words out if she were touching him. She sat up straighter as well, following his lead. Knowing her penchant to run scared, part of him wished that she were fully dressed, ready to leave the house. He knew this was not news she'd be able to swallow at first. He knew now that she hadn't wanted him to leave, she'd said so much. But his reasons for thinking so weren't ones she was going to like.

"Okay, just let me get it all out before you say anything," he paused as she nodded. "First of all, I don't think I've ever been terrified before or since that night in my life."

_The car was completely crumpled in on the passenger side, and she wasn't moving. He wasn't completely sure if he'd passed out for a moment or not, but there was someone yelling outside, asking if they could hear him. The first thing he saw was the time on the dashboard. 4 a.m. Tristan looked to the man, and shook his head. He looked back at Rory, and moved to touch her arm. _

"_Rory, can you hear me?" _

_No movement, no answer. The man was pulling his door open, trying to help him out. He'd called 911. He'd seen it all, having just been a coming behind them along the road. The other car, the one that'd hit them, had landed on the opposite side of the roadway. All of this information the man was feeding him seemed unimportant, as she still hadn't moved a muscle. There was too much blood around her; it was all he could focus on. _

_Ambulances came, three of them, and suddenly the Jaws of Life were cutting the car apart, in attempts to get to her. He wanted to touch her, talk to her, but they were putting him on a stretcher as well, insisting that he calm down and let them examine him as well. He looked over, seeing the EMTs performing CPR on the driver of the other car, a mobile crash cart on the ground. He tried to hear what they were saying about Rory's vitals, but he couldn't hear from the distance he was at. They just kept telling him that they would be rushed to the same hospital. He'd see her soon._

_He yelled as loud as possible, before they shut the doors to take him to Hartford Memorial, telling her he'd be there waiting for her at the hospital. It didn't matter if she could hear him; he'd never broken his word to her. _

"After I got checked out, and I found you, Lorelai and your grandparents were there. Lorelai and Emily went off to talk to the doctors, and to see you. They wouldn't let me in, because I wasn't family. Richard stayed out there with me, sitting in those horrifyingly uncomfortable plastic chairs in the hallway."

"_She's going to be fine, son, she's a fighter."_

_Tristan nodded numbly. He'd seen her through the window, and didn't have the heart to tell Richard how fragile and weak she looked. Things were going so quickly, but too slow at the same time. He just wanted to get in there—sure Lorelai would help him convince the staff to let him to be with her.. _

_But she never came out of the room. Emily slipped out, her own face now pale and set, stopping in front of Tristan._

"_Well, I hope you're happy with yourself."_

"_Emily," Richard admonished, "Get a hold of yourself."_

"_I will not. I won't, not until . . ." she trailed off, as Richard dragged her down the hall. Tristan heard their strained voices like brush strokes. Their tones went from mixed anger and compassion, to just anger. She swallowed him into her mindset, and they were soon in front of him again. He stood, not liking the look on Richard's face. He looked stunned and hurt. _

"_You need to leave. Your presence isn't required here now," Emily said, not caring how her words affected him._

"_I'm not going anywhere."_

"_Tristan, look what you've done to her—she might not live, is that not clear to you? She just needs her family now. She's in that hospital bed because of you, and she doesn't want you here."_

_He shook his head, not quite understanding. "She's awake?"_

"_She opened her eyes while Lorelai and I were in the room. She said to send you away," the older woman looked down, almost as if she were sorry to deliver the news. He didn't believe her, and made no move to leave._

"_Son, I think it's time you go. Go home."_

_To hear Richard saying this, the man that had been so pleased at their relationship and plans to attend Yale together, something inside of him deflated. He looked at both of them for a moment, then his parents were calling out to him, his mother enveloping him, grateful that he was seemingly unharmed._

_He wanted to tell her it was the furthest thing from the truth. _

"And you just left?" her voice was timid.

He nodded.

"I don't understand, that doesn't make any sense."

"What the hell else was I supposed to do?"

"No, I mean, I didn't wake up for another day and a half. Mom told me so, the nurses told me, even."

"You didn't wake up that morning?"

She shook her head, numbly. "I didn't know—when no one told me anything, I started asking if you were still in the hospital. They said you left after you got checked out."

"I didn't give up—not then. I wrote you letters, I found out that you'd been released and went off to Europe with your mom and Emily—sort of like you'd planned. I tried to explain, but when you didn't answer the letters, then I figured it was true. You'd wanted me to go."

"I never got any letters."

"You didn't?"

Rory paled for a moment, pulling the blanket up over her chest. "Oh my God."

Dread and understanding mixed in her voice, and she closed her eyes. Suddenly, as if he'd slipped in a lost puzzle piece, she saw the whole picture of that night. She had no memory of the actual remains of the accident, or the driver that had pulled out from that nearly hidden side road in the middle of the night, and she certainly hadn't realized that this much manipulation had gone on.

Emily had told him to go, and she knew why.

"I knew she didn't like us together," he said slowly, trying to ease her pain of the betrayal. "I thought that she was just trying to use the accident as an excuse as why I was bad for you. She thought it was my fault. I wasn't going to leave, not until Richard seemed so convinced that you wouldn't want me there."

"She did more than that, Tristan."

He looked at her, not quite understanding. "The letters?"

She nodded. "I don't think I can do this right now."

"Rory, please," he pleaded. "Please, let's not stop now. It's all out in the open now. No one can," he began, but she was shaking her head adamantly.

"I can't. Not now."

He hated seeing her like this. Breakable—hell, breaking. She was so much stronger than this, but he couldn't blame her for not dealing with all the reality she'd been forced to handle just in the past week.

He wasn't doing so well himself.

He'd never wanted to kill someone with such ferocity in his life. He understood now, as he had in that moment at the hospital, that Emily's words had been out of fear more than anything. He'd been afraid, too. What he couldn't understand was why she would out and out lie, taking away the one thing that made her granddaughter happiest. How had she expected Rory to feel when she woke up and found that he wasn't around?

"I think you should go now."

"Rory. No, listen to me," he said calmly.

"Tristan, I can't do this now. Do you hear me? Can't it just be enough for now that you knew I didn't say that? I wanted you there. All I could think about was you. It was the first thought I remember having, when I woke up in the hospital. I thought of nothing else for weeks—months even! I don't remember anything about Paris, Berlin, London—all I remember is the pain of finding you had left me."

Her words cut into him, and he moved to stand up. He gathered his shoes, and looked at her from the doorway of the bedroom. The fact was that he shouldn't have left her, and if she wasn't able to forgive him for leaving her he couldn't blame her. He hadn't forgiven himself, even though he now knew how he'd been manipulated. There was just still a part of him that wasn't ready for her to be out of his life again.

"I'm going to be staying in Hartford, at my grandfather's."

She nodded, closing her eyes for a minute. When she reopened them, he was still there, waiting for her verbal response.

"I'm sorry. I just can't deal with this right now."

She'd repeated that several times now, and he couldn't imagine what exactly she meant past the fact that she couldn't wrap her mind around finding out Emily had sent him away just the day after she buried her mother. It was enough to crack anyone down the center.

"Okay. Take your time. You can find me if you want to—and Rory?"

She lifted her chin a bit, to meet his eyes.

"I want you to find me."

She nodded, her eyes tearing up yet again. She wished she'd just run out of tears. He turned and moments later she heard the front door click softly behind him.

She was alone now.

And she'd never needed her mother more.

It was too much to process. Tristan was back—and he'd never wanted to leave. Not to mention one of the people that supposedly loved her and was 'there for her' after he left was the one that sent him away? She was livid, and soon found herself pulling on a coat, jumping into her car.

-

Knocking on the large door, a maid opened it quickly, smiling at her. "Come on in, she's in the living room."

Rory marched through the foyer to the living room, to see her grandmother sitting on the couch, reading a book. She looked up when she heard Rory approaching.

She stood, ready to console her granddaughter. She'd been so unapproachable the day before, not really responding to anyone's condolences. She knew how close Rory and Lorelai had been all their lives, and she hated to see Rory in this much pain. Glad she seemed to be reaching out for comfort, she tried to hug her.

Rory backed away.

"How could you?"

"What? Rory, what's the matter?"

"Tristan. You sent him away. You told him I didn't want him at the hospital!"

"Rory, dear, are you feeling okay?"

"Answer me, Grandma, did you tell him that I didn't want him at the hospital, the night of my accident?"

Emily looked aside, "It was for the best."

"Really. Huh. You know, I always supported you, told Mom she was paranoid when she told me how controlling and manipulative that you were. She was always convinced that you wanted to run her life and all that. I guess I was naïve, I just never thought that you would it to me."

"Rory, that boy," she began, but Rory was on a roll.

"That 'boy' was the man that I was in love with. The one that I should have spent my life with. He's the one that has been moving on, away from me for the last nine years because my own grandmother lied to his face and told him that I wanted him to do so."

"Rory, you know the circumstances. You think things would have turned out differently if I hadn't said anything?"

"Yes."

"Then you are naïve."

"No, I'm not. You didn't know him, I did."

"Trust me, dear, this was for the best."

"If the best is you ruining my life, then fine. It was for the best."

With that, Rory turned to leave, leaving her shell-shocked grandmother standing in the middle of the living room.


	7. Happier Times

_His lips were gently pressed into her forehead, and his hand was moving soothingly up and down her bare back. She opened her eyes and smiled as she looked into his waiting eyes. True contentment wasn't something she'd ever thought she'd find in life, but at this moment everything was perfect._

"_Hey."_

"_Hey."_

"_I didn't mean to fall asleep."_

"_It's okay. You've had a big day."_

"_So have you, and you're awake."_

"_As are you, now."_

"_Are we going somewhere else?"_

"_Yep. Get dressed."_

_She yawned, not wanting to move away from him. She put her hands on his shoulders and nestled back down into his chest._

"_Rory," he laughed. "This isn't going to work."_

"_You're trapped. We're just going to have to stay like this forever."_

_He paused, and she looked at him when no sarcastic comment came back at her. _

"_Okay by me."_

_He made her absolutely melt, all the time. The best part about him was that she was never completely sure when he'd say something to turn her into goo. He cared for her in ways that she'd only begun to understand. _

"_Five more minutes?"_

"_Okay. I'm not responsible if you're late to catch your plane. I have very specific plans laid out for us tonight."_

"_You're seriously going to keep me out all night long?"_

_He nodded. "You thought I risked my own hide asking Lorelai to do just that for kicks?"_

"_No, I just thought you were messing with her," she giggled._

"_So, what you think of me as a pretty face, nothing else? I do have some brains in my head, Ms. Valedictorian."_

_She kissed him, the most effective (not to mention satisfying) means of shutting him up she'd managed to find in two years' time. She slid up his body, the friction causing him to groan and pull her closer to him. They could never be close enough. She dipped her head down to his ear. _

"_I love you."_

"Hey, I thought I'd find you here."

She looked up from her seat on the ground. She left her grandparents' house and ended up here, by the pond. Mostly likely to be close to her mother. She subconsciously hoped she'd gain wisdom that her mother seemed to have if she sat here. Lorelai had been smart enough to figure out what had happened, why hadn't she?

Grief could be blinding.

"Hey, Dad."

"I went by the house, and you were gone. I know you like this place."

She nodded. "Do you know why?"

"You guys lived here, once upon a time."

"Yeah. Did you ever visit us then?"

"Once. I didn't stay long. Your mom and I got into a fight."

She nodded. "It happened. She loved you, you know."

He nodded, and sat down next to her in the expanse of grass. "And I loved her. But she loved Luke more."

"It's not the same, what she felt for each of you was different."

He nodded. "What are you thinking about?"

"Happier times."

He looked to his daughter, and noted the far-off gaze in her eyes. She was a completely independent person, with a history and her whole life in front of her. He wanted to tell her that.

"So, you want to talk about your visitors from yesterday?"

"No, not really."

"Connor's still here. He's staying at the Inn. Sookie's trying to feed us all until we pop. She's taking this really hard."

"She bakes when she's upset. She'll have to send food all over the state," Rory smiled, loving her mother's best friend for her quirky ways.

"So, are you going to see him?"

Her mind immediately went to Tristan. He wanted her to find him, but she wasn't ready to see him yet. "Uh, I'm not sure."

"He just wants to make sure you're okay. He says he'll stay around until he talks to you again."

"Who, Connor?"

"You're thinking of Tristan."

She nodded, not being able to help herself. "I found out that Grandma had sent him away."

"What, after your accident?"

She nodded. He sighed. "That sounds like Emily. But Lorelai was there, she wouldn't have allowed it."

"Dad, she was in pieces, she was with me. She wasn't worried about that," she explained.

"True. She really thought you were a goner, kid. The way she looked at me, when I got there," he paused, not wanting to think about it. Losing Lorelai had been hard enough.

"So, if he didn't leave you purposefully, why aren't you with him right now?" he changed the subject quickly.

"It's been a long time, Dad, so much has changed. I can't just go to him and expect all that not to make a difference."

Christopher put his arm around his daughter. "I know that I haven't been the wisest person in your life, or there for you when you needed me. Do you mind if I tell you something now?"

She shook her head, looking at him intently.

"If you guys are supposed to be together, nothing else could matter. You'll get there. No matter whom you're supposed to be with."

"You really believe that?"

"Yep."

"Mom used to tell me the same thing."

"Well, you know she was wise."

Rory smiled and nodded. "I should go tell Connor to go."

"Probably. But, Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"Be gentle. It sucks to have someone not love you the way you love them."

His tone of voice told her that he spoke from experience. It was no secret that Chris had always held onto the belief that he and Lorelai would end up together. Rory herself had given up on that long ago, after she'd seen how happy her mother had been with Luke. The idea that there was just one person out there for you was so deeply embedded in her mind—and her one person had been Tristan. Trying to be with someone else had not only made her loss worse—it'd manifested itself into guilt. Her heart wasn't being true to itself. It was better to be alone.

"I will. When are you heading back to Boston?"

"Tonight. Your sister is staying at a friend's house."

"Tell her hello for me, will you?"

"I will. Good luck, honey."

She hugged her father goodbye and stood up. She had walked here from the house, needing the fresh air. She'd hoped the extra oxygen in her system would clear out her mind. She was glad to have the extra time now that it would take to walk to her mother's inn. She needed to collect her thoughts and look more at ease when she saw Connor. He wouldn't go if he believed she was overwhelmed and distraught. He was a good man, and he would be at her side, wanting to help her through this.

He was at the stables when she walked up. She slowed her pace when she saw him, and crossed her arms as she stopped behind him.

"Connor," she caught his attention, and he turned quickly.

"Rory, thank God. I went by your mom's house, and no one was home."

"I went for a walk."

"Clearing your head?"

She nodded. He knew bits and pieces of her. She'd never let him in, not all the way. He knew what he could study of her, like she was a book that he liked to read. There had been so much that she wouldn't tell him about. It was one of the biggest reasons she felt it was only fair to him that they separate, even though he'd been sure that they could work through anything she was unhappy with.

She knew better. The reasons she could never be happy with him had nothing to do with him. They were unfixable. She had been unfixable.

"It was wonderful of you to come. How are you?"

"Still in New York. I just finished a shoot in Japan when I got the call about your mom. Why didn't you tell me she was sick?"

"I didn't want to bother you."

"You aren't a bother."

She smiled. "You don't have to do this."

"Who was that man?"

"Which man?"

"At the wake, you came with a man. A rather protective man," he added, commenting on the way Tristan had seemed to be shielding her from the crowd.

"Oh, that was, an old friend."

"Rory," he knew better, and wasn't buying it.

"Connor, it doesn't matter."

"Was he the reason we didn't stay together?"

"I told you why we couldn't stay together. I wasn't unfaithful to you."

"No, but you felt you were being unfaithful to him, by being with me. Is that it?"

"What he and I had, it's been over for years now. Before I met you."

He sighed. "Will you let him help you through this?" He reached out, and slid his hand down her arm. She looked up at him, her eyes now ever-shining from threatening tears.

"I don't know if he wants to."

Connor smiled softly. "He'd have to be an idiot not to."

"Thank you."

"You want me to stop by your apartment, and get your mail?"

"I'm having everything forwarded. I'm not sure if I'm going back."

He looked at her and nodded. She had a lot of decisions—her mother had left almost everything she had to Rory. The house, her half of the Inn, everything.

"Well, if you do need any help, call me, okay?"

She nodded, moving to hug him. She knew she wouldn't, it just wasn't fair to pull him into her life when she knew he would take it as encouragement.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Connor. Anything you want." Honesty had always been her strong suit, and ultimately the demise of their marriage.

"When did you know you were in love with him?"

It hit her as odd, that he would want to know. Maybe he thought that perhaps she'd only figured it out when she was with Connor, a hindsight kind of a deal. After all, she'd been so hesitant in saying it to Connor, telling him for the longest time that she cared for him, and she loved spending time with him—all of which was true. He had no idea she hadn't been born a commitment-phobe.

"After he first kissed me."

"_Mary! Slow down!"_

_She didn't. She'd turned and run away from him as fast as she could barrel through the crowd at the party. He was faster, simply from his strides being longer than hers. He caught up with her before she hit the front door._

"_Rory!"_

_She turned at his use of her actual name. "I need to go."_

_Her friend Lane, looked at the two and quickly deduced that her tears and his pursuit might be linked. She excused herself quickly, and moved back into the crowd to find Henry, the boy that Rory had just pulled her away from so they could return home. _

_Rory looked at her friend in surprise. _

"_See, even she thinks you should talk to me."_

_She moved and opened the door, motioning for him to follow her. It was too loud in the party, and he quickly moved to join her out on the front stoop._

"_Why did you run like that?"_

"_This is insane, Tristan—I just broke up with my boyfriend."_

"_So what? He's not here. I'm here."_

"_You just kissed me to get back at Summer."  
_

"_No, I didn't. I kissed you because I've wanted to do that since I first saw you."_

_Her comebacks were silenced. Her mouthed opened a little, in surprise, and he couldn't hold back now. He moved to her again, pressing his lips to hers a second time. _

_This time she didn't run._

_Suddenly his childish teasing that had driven her nearly insane made sense. He was just trying to get her to notice him, desperately trying to get her to think about him. He didn't seem so childish now, his strong arms wrapping around her waist, as he kissed her through her now drying tears. _

"Well, he must be a lucky man."

"He's a persistent man."

"You need one of those," he smiled hugging her again before leaving her to stand alone at the stables. She leaned against the building, still a little lost in the memory of herself as a sixteen-year-old. Newly in love, getting to know Tristan, it'd been the best time of her young life up to that point. It'd only gotten better and better with him.

She wondered if those times truly had to be behind her.


	8. Broken Dreams

AN: Just wanted to pop in and thank everyone who has left reviews to say you're enjoying this story. Love the encouragement, as always. Hope you enjoy this installment as well.

After pulling up outside the looming mansion the second time she'd traveled to Hartford on this spring day, she sat in her car for a good ten minutes, willing the right words to come to her. She could talk of the good times they'd had, all of them being as strong as ever in her memory, trying to get him to remember the love he had for her once. Reminding him of good before she delved into the hellish. After all, she had to tell him all the information that he was missing, as he'd done for her. She knew that.

Her hesitation came from the fact that it would be easier for him not to know, as it would have been for her.

Doing this would only hurt him, and they'd both been hurt enough for one lifetime. Just because she believed he had the right to know, didn't mean he would really want to. Now wishing she'd stopped somewhere, anywhere, for coffee, she left the safety of her car and slowly approached the door. What she really wished was that Luke would hurry back, because the coffee at the diner was lacking with his absence, and she needed the caffeine to keep her going most days now.

Nothing was the same since her mother had been in the hospital.

As always in this area of Hartford, she expected a servant of some kind to open the door, and she was more than surprised to see a familiar face staring back at her when it swung open.

"Janlan," she said, still staring in surprise.

"Rory, my dear, how are you?"

The older man pulled her into his embrace as if not a day had passed between their last meeting. She was glad for the comfort from him, as he was someone she'd always liked and admired. He was like a second grandfather to her. Tristan's entire family had treated her like one of their own, just as Tristan had been embraced by all the people in her world. Well, with one notable exception, that is.

The idea of seeing Janlan hadn't occurred to her, nor had the idea that he might not accept her after the pain that he'd seen Tristan go through on her account. It was an afterthought as she began to pull away from him.

"I'm okay. Been better."

"I was so sorry to hear about your mother. Richard called when it got bad, last week. I'm afraid I was the one to call Tristan—I hope you aren't upset with me about that."

She smiled. "No, not at all. In fact, I've come here to see him."

"Oh, well, I'm afraid he's gone out for the day. You're welcome to come in and keep me company, if you'd like."

She nodded, grateful for the invitation. If she went back home, memories of her mother and well-meaning townspeople would be there, pulling her deeper into her grief. He allowed her entrance and they moved to the sitting room.

"I'm afraid it's the maid's day off, but I can get you some coffee if you'd like."

"You remembered."

He chuckled. "It's quite a thing to forget, I don't think I've ever seen someone with such a strong addiction in my life."

"One I've had since before birth," she nodded, an uncomfortable pause added at the end. It seemed so normal before, to speak of her life, but now she was realizing how much of her life was tied to her mother.

"Have a seat, dear, I'll be right back."

She moved to the sofa, sitting down on the worn leather, and kicked off her shoes so she could pull up her stocking-covered feet under her. She looked down the hall, and just as before, the open door to Janlan's study was visible. On the wall over his desk were family pictures, including one of her and Tristan outside of Chilton in their gowns and mortar boards. It was the last day anyone would have had the opportunity to photograph the two of them together, and so many had.

She'd just never had the opportunity to see the results of any of them until now.

"Here you are," he came back in with two mugs of steaming hot liquid. "Black okay?"

"Perfect."

"I was going to try to make it to the services, but Tristan insisted that he go alone. He didn't want to make a spectacle of his presence."

She nodded. "He didn't even come up to me at the funeral."

The older man said nothing, but took a pause before sipping his coffee. "He's gone to Boston, on a job hunt."

"Oh."

"He's a bit lost right now, I'm afraid. Has been," he eyed her carefully, not sure how much to push into this line of conversation.

"I know the feeling."

"So, what have you been up to in these last years?"

"I've been with the Peace Corps for the last few. I went to Yale first, then left for Africa immediately after. I've just been back the last two years, really."

"Most of which spent with your mother, I would presume?"

Rory nodded. "As soon as we found out she was sick, I moved up from New York to be with her. She tried to stop me, but I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't."

"It's a hard thing to watch. Tristan's grandmother went through that, just two years before he met you."

"I know." She'd thought of that the first thing when the doctor had said the words cervical cancer in his office. She'd sat on one side of her mother, Luke on the other, him having closed down the diner that day to come along despite Lorelai's protests.

She'd been glad to have him there later.

"Is this too much, talking about it?"

She shook her head. "I'm getting used to it."

"I'm afraid that isn't really possible. They say it gets easier, but really all that happens is more time passes and life gets back to the forefront of your mind."

It was almost a relief to have someone speak the truth to her about loss. Everyone else had been telling her that time heals all wounds, when she knew better than that anyhow.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He nodded, interested to see what exactly was on her mind. Tristan had looked so drawn, so wrung-out after his visit with her. He'd been gone all night, but didn't really elaborate on what had occurred between them.

"Did you talk to my grandparents, after the accident?"

Janlan looked down, letting out a deep breath. "I tried. I called, and talked to Richard. He would only say that it was best for the time being if Tristan stayed away from the hospital. That your mother was fragile, you were resistant to treatment, and Emily was livid."

She nodded. "It took a long time for me to recover."

"It was no different for Tristan."

She looked up at him, compassion filling her eyes. "I wanted him there."

"I know."

She sighed, taking a long drink of coffee. "When will he return?"

"He didn't say. Would you like to call his cell phone?"

"Is it okay if I just wait here for him?"

"He may not return until tomorrow. Not that you aren't welcome to stay over tonight. God knows I have the room and would love the company."

"Really?"

"I can imagine that going back home wouldn't be comforting for you right now. Is there anyone there with you?"

"No. Tristan stayed last night with me," she said, casting her eyes down. Somehow she still felt sixteen all over again, not free to discuss such things with adults.

"He wants to be there for you."

She smiled, wondering how much longer that would be the case. "I don't know what I would have done so far, without him there."

"Surely there have been others there for you," he probed.

"Well, Luke—my mother's boyfriend—couldn't really handle the funeral. He's gone for a while, clearing his head, grieving. He's not a very public person. My father came down, but he's in his own pain as well, and needed to get back to Boston."

"I see."

"And my ex-husband came, but I sent him away."

He raised his eyebrows at her, but said nothing.

"Connor offered to be with me, but it wasn't—he doesn't understand."

"Not like Tristan does?" Janlan asked knowingly.

"It's just not the same, I don't know how to explain it. It isn't comparable."

"Evidently your mother alluded to that when she came to find Tristan before your wedding. Did he tell you about that visit?"

She nodded. "I had no idea," she said honestly.

"She felt much as I did, I suppose. Knowing that you two should be reunited, but not wanting to openly butt in. When Tristan told me what happened at the hospital, and of Richard asking him to leave as well because it was what you wanted—I smelled something rotten. It just seemed so absurd that you be apart at a time like that."

"I suppose there was nothing anyone could do."

"So, your mother never married?"

She shook her head. "Luke wanted to, but Mom didn't see the point. The lived together, and they'd talked about kids a little, until she got sick. They'd been together just under five years, taking their time. Mom kept telling him they had all the time in the world. Then, they were sort of out of time all of a sudden."

"You never know when the rug might get pulled out from underneath you. I was lucky, I had thirty-seven years with my wife."

"Anyhow, I think she might have given in, if they'd had kids. I guess we'll never know."

"People usually come around with the right person, no matter how they once were. Tristan did, that's for sure. I can't even tell you how many ignorant, simple girls he brought around here. Pretty, well-bred and all, but how he stood the part where they opened their mouths and let words spill out, I'll never know."

Rory laughed, having seen some of them with her own eyes at school.

"Then he brought you around. Immediately I noticed a change in him. You were quite good for him, he really started acting like a man."

"He's a great man."

"You know the first time I really noticed it?"

She shook her head, eager to hear Janlan's story.

"That first Christmas you two shared. He brought you over here for the family party. Do you remember that?"

She nodded. Certain nights would never leave her memory, and that one in particular had been quite a milestone.

"_Aren't you bored yet?"_

"_Are you kidding me? Your mother just promised to whip out the baby books. I'm having a great time."_

_He groaned. "Seriously, we can head out the back way; no one would notice we left."_

"_Yes, they would. And what is wrong with you, your family is being wonderful to me."_

"_Yes, but they're embarrassing the hell out of me."_

_She rolled her eyes, and kissed his cheek playfully. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter against his suit. He brushed his lips against hers, knowing she would be mortified to be caught making out by one of his family members. He attempted to keep it very PG at these parties. _

"_Don't worry. I won't make very many copies of any bare-butt on the front room rug pictures," she teased him, ruffling his hair._

"_Surely Lorelai has embarrassing pictures of you somewhere," he countered._

"_Yeah, but I have the unique advantage that you don't."  
_

"_What's that?"_

"_I have more dirt on her than you do on your parents. We grew up together, she can't rat me out like that."_

_He laughed. "What kind of stuff do you have on her?"_

"_Nice try."_

"_It was worth a shot. How does a guy live down having his mother show the girl he loves pictures of his first year of life, when evidently no one ever bothered to put a stitch of clothing on him?"_

_She stood still in his embrace, looking at him in near shock. Somewhere she'd lost the journey he was making with the hypothetical question—she'd gotten stuck on the L-word. _

_This was not a word they'd used with each other._

"_Rory?"_

"_I, uh, sorry. You," she began hesitantly._

"_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . .Can you even blink?"_

"_I just didn't expect," she tried again, forcing her eyes to blink, so he'd see she was okay._

"_I do, love you I mean, I just hadn't quite meant to say it like that."_

_She smiled, her breath resuming almost to normal. "You love me?"_

_He nodded. "I love you," he said it, almost to test it out._

_Her smile widened. "I love you, too."_

"_You aren't going to try to run away if I kiss you right now, are you?"_

_She shook her head, and he leaned down a little to kiss her, his hand skimming her cheek before coming to rest under her jaw line. They lingered longer in their kisses than she would normally allow in public, not caring if the whole of Hartford walked into the room at this moment. _

"_I just want you to know, this does not mean I have any intention of skipping out on this party with you," she said jokingly, trying to lighten up the moment a little. Both of their nerves were ignited, the enormity of their exchange both very much in their minds._

"_Damn. My plan backfired."_

_She giggled, and took his hand, leading him back out of the study and into the main room where everyone else was congregated._

"Not to sound like a spy, but I couldn't help but notice how happy my grandson looked with you around. I don't know what was going on in my study, but just the way he interacted with you, the way he carried himself around you. He seemed to be caring more for you and your needs than his own. That was a first."

She didn't want to cry again, and she knew if she attempted to speak, it would happen. She kept her mouth closed and nodded, hoping he would continue.

"Everyone assumed you two would go to Yale and get married."

She nodded again. It would be a lie to say that the idea had never crossed her mind, even if they had never really talked about marriage. It seemed crazy, despite how strongly they felt for each other, as they were only in high school at the time. They both had so much they wanted to do before they got married, and in their naïve youth, they assumed the 'we have our whole lives' attitude.

"In fact, not long before your graduation," he chose that word in place of 'the accident', for which she was grateful, "Tristan talked to me about the possibility."

"He, what?"

"I didn't know if you two had discussed it, but it was definitely in his mind."

She was even more stunned. She sat, holding her now empty coffee cup, and tried to remember to exhale. "I had no idea. We never, it just wasn't something we had mentioned."

He nodded, noting her overwhelmed response. They'd talked about a lot of emotionally charged topics, and she must have had her fill of those days ago.

"It's getting late. Would you like me to show you to his room? You can rest, and wait there for him."

She nodded, more than appreciative for the hospitality that Janlan was extending to her. She would have expected none less from this wonderful man, but she wouldn't have blamed him for being cool to her despite the circumstances either.

She turned to him as he brought her fresh towels and laid them on the bed.

"I just wanted to let you know, he would have turned out to be a good man, with or without me," she paused, putting her hand on the older man's arm. "He's always looked up to you, and sought out to be a man you'd be proud of."

He hugged her again, moved by her kind words. "Let me know if you need anything else, alright?"

"I will. Good night."

"Good night, Rory."

With that, he left her to relax, and she moved over to the bed that Tristan had slept in the night before the funeral. She pulled back the covers and picked up his pillow, holding it to her face. She smelled a light trace of his cologne, and the uniquely masculine scent that she'd once craved so much.

Perhaps she could sleep tonight, even without him truly there.


	9. No Words

AN: What can I say, the reviewing motivates the writing—plus this is my only story right now. Thus the chapter crank out. Some of you have asked. Plus, I have two hours to kill before a new eppy on tv. . .Enjoy!

Time seems to stop in the middle of the night. The sun will never come up, and everything is masked in a sinister shadow. He used to love the nighttime for its mysterious qualities, and the romantic pleasure the never-ending time provided him. No more was this the case. Everything that hung in time now for him were things he wished he could forget. He turned up his radio, and bumped his headlights up to hi-beams, ready to just lie down. It was his own fault he was coming back so late. He'd had no real interest in finding jobs in Boston, but went to check out a promising lead from an old friend. After that he'd just wandered around downtown, aimless and anonymous. No one knew him here, and he could start over, that was for sure.

Of course, he'd thought that of every place he'd been stationed all over the world.

Nothing had brought solace.

He pulled into the garage of his grandfather's house at nearly two in the morning. No light left on for him, just a darkened house to greet him. Obviously his return wasn't expected until the next day.

He walked quietly to his room, not wanting to wake his grandfather, who slept just down the hall. He'd loosened his tie in the car, and lifted it easily over his head. By the time he turned to the bed, he'd completely undressed down to his usual attire of boxers. He looked at the bed for a moment, blinking to make sure he'd not fallen asleep on the walk up the stairs.

He was sure he must be dreaming.

She was there, lying in his bed. Sound asleep, oblivious to his presence. He knelt down on the floor, just in front of her face, and brushed his fingers down her cheek. She stirred, but didn't open her eyes. He hated to wake her, but had to touch her. To make sure she was real.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave a smile. He smiled back, continuing his feather-light touches.

"You're back."

"I'm back."

"You must be exhausted."

"Something like that."

"Come to bed."

"Rory, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you, but you were in Boston."

"Ever heard of a phone?" he asked jokingly, his tone still just a whisper.

She ignored his jest. "Janlan offered to let me stay, and showed me in here. You mind?"

He shook his head gently. "Never."

She moved to sit up, so she could slide over, but he shook his head. "Just, stay there."

He walked around to the other side of the bed, and moved underneath the covers, sliding up against her backside in the large bed. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him like a life-sized teddy bear. She melted into his embrace, warming his cooler frame.

"Rory?"

"Hmm?"

"Should we talk now?"

"Tomorrow. Sleep now, you're exhausted."

He nodded, pulling her tighter, glad to just relax with her. He was so relieved she'd come back for him, he didn't even care what she'd come to say, or if her invitation to join her came from her sleep-induced state. He buried his face in her hair and fell asleep.

-

A knock came at the bedroom door early the next morning. The sun was shining brightly through the east-facing window, casting a large sunray over the foot of the king-sized bed. The door opened at no answer, and Janlan poked his head in, surprised to see not one, but two forms on the bed. He moved to close the door unnoticed, but Tristan's head raised up before he could.

"Gramps?"

"Sorry, son," he said, acknowledging his grandson's presence.

"What is it?"

"I was just going to tell Rory that breakfast was being served. Take your time. I'll have the maid save some."

"Thanks."

Rory stirred at their voices, and opened her eyes as Janlan shut the door again. She rolled over, yawning to get the sleep out of her system, and stretched her back.

"Morning."

"Morning."

"Was that about food?"

"You hungry?" he smiled, glad that some things never change.

"A little, but it can wait."

He nodded, scratching the back of his head.

"This is weird."

"Being in bed like this?"

"The whole situation. I don't think I can tell you what I have to tell you in bed."

He nodded. "Where do you want to tell me?"

It was a question she had no answer for. Perhaps this was as good a place as any. She had no idea. She sat up a bit, still next to him in the middle of the bed. Huge expanses of empty space open next to each of them. She used to love staying over in these beds. They were perfect for pillow fights. Not to mention other activities.

"This isn't easy. You told me why you left, and I'm sure that wasn't easy for you," she paused, and he nodded in agreement.

"First, I just want to ask you, to be fair—if there were things from back then, things you didn't know about, would you want to know about them now?"

He thought for a moment, considering what she was really asking. "That depends."

"On what?" she hedged.

"Well, it's a different prospect if you're going to tell me that you secretly hated my choice of locker decoration than you admitting that you were cheating on me."

She laughed for a moment. "It was no secret that I hated your choice of locker décor."

He smiled. "So, you weren't cheating on me?"

"Oh, God, no! I couldn't have ever. . ."

"Then, what is the big deal? Nothing you could tell me would change how I felt about you."

"How you felt?"

He looked at her, knowing what she was asking. She hadn't offered up any words of still undying love for him, and he was hesitant to tell her how he was feeling.

But then again, she'd come back to him.

"I think we should take this one piece of life-altering information at a time. We owe that to each other, don't you think?"

She nodded, understanding his thought process. It'd been nine years, and even though it was obvious they still had the connection they once had, they still had a lot to sort through.

"Okay, so, you want me to tell you?"

He nodded, leaning back against the headboard. She pushed her hair that had fallen down loosely around her face behind her ears, preparing herself for her speech.

"I don't remember the accident. I remember headlights, but that's all," she began.

_It was unreal, the car coming towards them at break-neck speed. It was coming for her side of the car, and all she could think was—this is it. She screamed, or tried too—she couldn't remember if she'd imagined that or not. All she knew was there was a lot of hushed tones of voices from people in the room with her, and someone had their cold hands on her arm._

_When she opened her eyes, she saw her mother, father, Luke, and her grandmother. _

"_Where's Tristan?"_

"_Rory!" a general chorus responded, as everyone moved marginally closer to the bed. It had been the nurse, who was checking her vitals, with the cold hands. She felt like she needed to sleep for a month—she was unusually aware of not being able to feel certain parts of her body. She would later find out that she was heavily sedated and on a lot of pain medication so that she couldn't feel those areas. _

"_Mom, where's Tristan?" she asked again, using all her strength to single out her mother and ask in full sentences. _

"_Oh, honey, we were so worried about you, thank God you're awake!"_

_Her mother moved and leaned down, hugging her as best she could. Her grandmother was on the other side of the bed, Christopher by her mother, and Luke down by the foot of her bed. She heard the clicking noise of the nurse's shoes against the hard tile floor as she left the group to go get the doctor. They'd all have to leave again soon, so he could examine her. _

"_Mom?" Tears came to her eyes, instantly worried as to why Lorelai was evading her questions. That usually meant one thing—bad news. _

"_Honey, just try to rest. Don't worry about anything right now, except getting better."_

_She wanted to sit up and make her mother tell her what was going on, but she was out again before she could form another syllable. The doctor came, and they all left, but she didn't wake up for another seven hours. _

_This time, only Lorelai was in her room. She looked pale, worry lines creasing her forehead. She was sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed, watching Rory as she lay there motionless._

"_Mom?"_

"_Hey, kid. You're back," she said wearily._

"_I'm thirsty."_

"_Okay, hang on a sec," she said, moving to pour some water out of the standard plastic pitcher that inhabits all hospital rooms into a paper cup. _

_She helped her daughter lift her head a bit, and put the cup up to her lips. Rory managed a little sip; just enough to wet the inside of her mouth and lips, and could take no more. She was being 'fed' intravenously, but her mouth felt like someone had shoved cotton balls into it. The water just made her feel better._

"_Where is everyone?"_

"_I sent people home. I'm sleeping here."_

"_Why won't you tell me?"_

_Lorelai sighed, knowing what was on her daughter's mind. "I have to tell you something."_

"_Is Tristan okay?"  
_

"_He's fine, honey, but you have to listen to me. I have to tell you something, about the accident."  
_

_It was strange to hear her mother say those words, 'the accident', something she couldn't remember, though it had obviously been something that had happened to her. She didn't feel like an active participant, though she lay in this hospital bed as a result. She felt like she should remember something so life-altering._

"_You had a lot of internal injuries, and you lost a lot of blood. They had to do emergency surgery when you got to the hospital, and it was successful."_

_Rory felt relief sweep through her—that meant she was going to be okay, she would get up and find Tristan, and it would all be okay._

"_Honey, I don't even know how to say this," she paused, her tone giving away the tears that were threatening. "The accident caused you to miscarry."_

_Confusion swept over her—surely the doctors had misinformed her. "No."_

"_Did you know?"_

"_No, no, no," Rory mumbled, not wanting to stay conscious now. None of this could be happening._

"_Honey, stay with me," she moved forward, now holding Rory's hand. _

"_Mom, I didn't know," she said, tears streaming down her face. Lorelai moved closer and hugged her, holding her as best she could despite the restrictions of equipment and the weird metal bars on the bed. _

"_It's okay, I'm here."_

_They cried together, grieving a loss of so many things, until Rory managed to make her voice work again._

"_Where is Tristan?"_

"_He left, honey."_

"_When?"  
_

"_After he got checked out, after the accident. He hasn't been back."  
_

"_Does he know?"_

"_I don't know."_

_She cried until she fell back into her sleep, letting her broken body heal. Nothing would be the same again. _

He sat, speechless, next to her. She sat motionless next to him, unsure of what to say or do next. He looked at her, shaking his head now. He cleared his throat.

"You thought I knew?"

"I thought—maybe they told you, and you couldn't handle it. I guess I couldn't have blamed you."

"Rory," he whispered. He put his hand cautiously on her hand, as if he'd never touched her before, and unsure how she'd react.

Her only response was to throw her arms around him, clinging to him. She cried, finally letting herself grieve their loss together, and he stroked her back with both hands, holding her to him. She pressed her face into his shoulder, like she'd wanted to do once upon a time, when Lorelai first told her. When they'd needed each other the most.

"She must have known, when Mom found out, that's why she did what she did."

"Emily?"

"Yes. She said you wouldn't have stayed with me anyhow, if you found out," she choked back a sob, not wanting him to confirm it.

"When did you talk to her?"

"Yesterday. I confronted her. She did this, all of this."

"Rory," he said again, trying to keep his tone calm despite his inability to see straight. "Don't worry about her."

"How can you say that?"

"Because I need you to hear me say this," he pulled her back, and made her look into his eyes. He held her chin in place with one hand, the other still on her back. "I would never have left if I knew about that. Even if you'd been the one to tell me to leave."

"Oh."

They continued to look at each other. She blinked tears away, only one question in her mind.

"Do you want me to go?"

He shook his head, and she moved back into his arms. It was the only thing they knew to do now. It was the only thing that made sense.

There were no words.


	10. Darling, Don't Refrain

AN: Back again—with another installment. A bit longer, hope you all enjoy.

_He smiled as he turned the corner, catching a glimpse of her. She stood in front of her open locker, switching out books for the next period. She pulled some lip gloss from it first, the only make-up she usually wore, and applied a fresh coat before grabbing the next books she'd need. _

_He came behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. She normally startled very easily, but she'd grown accustomed to his sneak attacks. She hadn't expected this particular visit; their post-lunch classes were on opposite ends of the campus. Normally, he walked her to her last class, but rarely did she see him at this time. _

"_Hey, where are your books?"_

"_Don't need 'em," he replied, taking hers from her hands and returning them to their places in her locker. _

"_Tristan, I kind of need those."_

"_No, you don't."_

"_Because I've become omniscient?"_

"_Because we're taking a field trip."_

_She narrowed her eyes at him. He knew getting her to agree would be the trick—she actually enjoyed school. He shuddered at the thought, and pressed on. _

"_Rory, it's after Spring Break in our senior year."_

"_Is this your argument? This is supposed to be convincing me to ditch?"_

"_Our high school education is complete. We've been accepted into Yale. You've missed ten whole minutes of school, **ever**. You literally could not show up for the next two months, and you'd still be at the top of our class."_

_She looked at him in amusement, but she was still not quite on board._

_He saw this. Giving her his best puppy-dog look, he tried again. "Please?"_

_She sighed. _

_He nodded, holding up his hands. "Okay, I didn't want to have to resort to this. I was hoping my charm would be enough to convince you, but clearly, I'm going to have to use the big guns."_

_She rolled her eyes as he pulled her in closer to him, pressing her back into the row of lockers. _

"_We're in public," she warned._

"_You owe me—going off to Europe all summer with Lorelai."_

_She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling the twinge of guilt well up inside her. She knew he hated the fact that she was going, all summer and without him, even though he'd taken the official news of their now-planned trip rather well. After all, they'd been planning on this since Rory was in diapers—just mother and daughter backpacking around Europe. It was their goal. And he'd been to Europe. _

_She still felt guilty. _

"_Where would we go?" she caved._

_He smiled and grabbed her hand as the warning bell sounded. They headed for his car, him giving her no more information about their spur-of-the-moment ditch day. _

The memory washed over him clearly as he cradled her body in his arms. They'd been so carefree then, him pulling her into the moment. Sometime after that it'd all changed, gloriously unbeknownst to them.

He had no concept of her level of exhaustion. She had passed out in his arms, having cried herself out. He continued to hold her, his mind wrapping around the whole of the situation. He knew what he had to do next. He looked down at the woman in his arms, and he ached for her. They might have had a child together, had the accident not happened. Or so he assumed. He couldn't imagine Rory not going through with the pregnancy. It's not like she would have been alone in the venture. She would have had him, her mom, his entire family—they would have been okay. He knew that much.

It was just surreal to try to think about.

He tried to slip down, pulling her with him so she would be lying down on the bed, and not sitting up against his chest. He needed to talk to his grandfather, and let her sleep. She stirred for a moment, but her sleep held and he covered her up, brushing his lips over her forehead before exiting the room.

Janlan looked up when he heard a solitary set of footsteps heading across the room.

"Tristan, good morning."

"Morning."

"How was Boston?"

Tristan shrugged. "Same as always."

Janlan cleared his throat. "She was upset, I couldn't send her home."

"I'm glad you didn't. We needed to talk."

"So she said."

"I'm going to need to go out for a bit. Will you ask her to wait for me, if she gets up again?" Tristan asked, picking up his jacket and rifling through the pockets for his keys.

"Slow down, sit."

Tristan did as his grandfather instructed, mainly out of habit. He dropped his jacket and sat across from the older man at the breakfast table.

"What happened?"

Tristan looked at him for a beat, then let out a breath. "She was pregnant."

Janlan's eyes widened in momentary surprise. He pulled his fingers down over his mouth, and then nodded. "Well, that makes more sense," he managed.

"Do not do that."

"Tristan, calm down. I know you're upset," he tried to soothe him.

"No, nothing makes what she did okay. Nothing. Do not justify that horrible woman's actions to me."

"I'm just saying that she had to be plenty spooked at the time, and that was what must have sent her over the edge, that's all."

Tristan nodded. "She knew, and she didn't see fit to tell me. She came to me when she knew Lorelai wouldn't be around, and scared me off. Then she let Rory believe that I knew and didn't care!"

Janlan watched his grandson explode, his nerves frayed. "And where exactly are you planning on going now?"

"You know where I'm going."

"That's not a smart idea. It's in the past, it's done."

"I don't care."

"You don't care that Rory tells you all this, then finds you gone again when she wakes up?"

"I won't be long. I don't plan on sticking around to listen to her side."

"Tristan," Janlan sighed, realizing he would be unable to talk his grandson out of this. "Fine. I'll have a tray brought up to her, and I'll sit with her."

"Don't let her leave," he instructed, his voice pleading.

Janlan nodded silently, watching as Tristan grabbed his jacket again and disappeared towards the garage.

xxxx

"I'll get it!" the refined voice rang out.

Richard opened the front door on the way from his study, surprised to see Tristan on the doorstep. He looked at him as if he were seeing a ghost.

"Tristan, this is a surprise."

"Is Emily here?" His jaw was set, no trace of good will on his face. This obviously was not a social call.

"Richard, who is it? Is it Rory?" she asked hopefully, stopping short when she saw the two men in the doorway. "My word, what are you doing here?"

Tristan stepped past Richard, advancing on Emily. He stopped just short of her and lowered his voice. "Do you realize what you did?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about! She was pregnant, Emily, and you knew it. You knew it, and you lied to my face!"

"I will not have you talking to my wife like that! You'll be a man, and address your issues with me," Richard said, stepping between them.

"Funny, maybe if you'd been a man at the time, none of this would have happened. You knew Rory wanted me in there, and you still let her tell her lies!" Tristan turned on Richard.

"Have you spoken with Rory?" Emily asked, still trying for information.

"That's none of your concern," he shook his head, holding his hand up between himself and her. "None of this was your concern," he added.

"She is my concern, she's my granddaughter! You were going to ruin her life, her future—you would have gotten her pregnant again!"

"Our lives were ruined only because of what you did. Can you comprehend what these years apart have been like for us? Knowing every single minute of the last nine years that if just one second had been different," he paused, not wanting to break down in front of this woman. She didn't deserve the satisfaction.

"Is she going to talk to us again?"

"Not if she's smart," he said. "I know she's forgiving, but ask yourself this, do you really think she can forgive you for the last nine years? For every time you saw her and didn't tell her the truth?"

Emily was quiet, crossing her arms over her chest. Richard looked from Tristan to his wife, his face falling.

"I didn't think so," he huffed, turning to let himself out the door.

xxxx

She woke again, this time to an empty expanse of white linens. He was gone again, as if she'd only dreamed his presence earlier. She had gone to bed here alone, at peace just knowing he would return.

Peace wasn't what she was feeling now.

A knock came at the door, and she hoped it was him, just being polite. She should have known better, they were beyond polite. They were beyond everything.

"Come in," she called, pulling the sheet up over her.

Janlan entered, followed by a maid with a bed tray. "Thought you might like some food."

She nodded gratefully, and the maid set the tray down over Rory's lap. Janlan sat in an armchair in the corner of the room. She looked down at the wonderful spread that he'd had prepared for her, but didn't touch it.

"You're not hungry?"

"Not really."

"You should eat. He'll be back shortly."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "He will?"

"He wanted me to bar the door if you tried to leave," Janlan smiled. "He'll be back."

"Good," she breathed, picking up her fork and raking it over her eggs aimlessly. "Did he tell you?"

He looked at her anxious gaze, and nodded. "He did."

"I'm sorry."

"There's no need for that."

"It must have disappointed you."

He smiled at her kindly, with a wistful look on his face. "I have every faith that you two would have handled it. You wouldn't have been alone in the matter—and besides, I can't say that Tristan's father was all that planned, either."

Her eyes widened, as if the idea of someone from his generation would have been so scandalous. "What?"

"Accidents happen, even with the best of intentions."

"I suppose so," she nodded, "Where did he go?"

"I should let him tell you that."

She looked back up at Janlan, his tone spoke of trouble. She couldn't imagine where he'd have to run off to at a time like this—other than to think. He liked to drive to clear his head, with the music blaring to block out the rest of the world. And perhaps to warn unwilling victims to steer clear of his path.

_He'd barely pulled his car to a stop before backing up quickly and squealing his tires on her road, his music pounding so hard that all the houses on her block resonated with the beat. _

_He hadn't been meant to see this. _

_If she'd known that either her ex-boyfriend would pick this afternoon to return the somehow large amount of stuff he'd managed to collect of hers in the past three months, or that Tristan would pick this day to surprise her with an after school visit, well, maybe this ugly scene could have been avoided._

"_Was that who I think it was?" Dean asked, clearly not thrilled. _

"_Oh my God," she buried her face into her hands. "This isn't happening."_

_Of course, Tristan probably wouldn't have taken off so fast if only Dean hadn't been trying to hug her. He was sorry, for freaking out, and he wanted to give her another chance like she'd asked for the night they broke up. He'd been thinking about it, and he loved her enough to give her time._

_She hadn't needed time; being with him just wasn't what she wanted. And she was in the process of telling him that, not to mention pushing him away, when Tristan's car pulled into her driveway. _

"_Why would you want to be with that jerk?" _

"_Dean, thanks for my stuff, but I have to go," she said, turning and running into the house to pick up the phone. She dialed his cell number, getting only his voicemail, time after time. He had his music up way too loud to hear anything else. She groaned._

"_Mom!"_

"_Rory?"_

_Rory ran upstairs, to where the voice had answered her from. She found her mother in her bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet lid, while propping her foot up on the rim of the bathtub. Half her toenails were painted bright blue._

"_What are you doing?"_

"_Working on the new fusion bomb."_

"_Forget it, look, I need quick advice. Emphasis on quick."_

"_Shoot."_

"_Tristan showed up to surprise me while Dean was trying to convince me to give it another shot."_

_Lorelai's head snapped up, her face visibly cringing. "Uh-huh. What was the body language like?"_

"_Whose?"_

"_You and Dean."_

"_He was hugging me, I was about to push him away."_

_She tsked. "And Tristan?"_

"_Was that spin out noise the entire four block radius probably just heard."_

"_So, that was Prodigy I was vibrating to!" she nodded in recognition. "Taylor will be screaming about that for weeks!"_

"_Mom, help. What do I do?"_

"_I'm assuming we want to make Tristan happier here, right?"  
_

"_Yes."_

"_So, you've been together less than a week, haven't really established a word for your 'relationship' and he finds you with ex-boyfriend in possibly a canoodling, compromising position upon arrival?"_

"_We were not canoodling. And yes."_

"_Drastic measures are in order, my dear. You have to go to him."_

"_Really?"  
_

"_Yes. Now, if only you had one of those cool moms that would let you take her car and go over to your uber-hot boyfriend's house to convince him that you like him and only him."_

"_Mom," she groaned. "Can I?"_

"_Go. Just be back before dark, or I'll come looking for him," she called, as Rory smiled at her and flew down the stairs._

Tristan came through the still open bedroom door a few moments later, causing Janlan to stand up. Janlan looked at the two of them, as their eyes locked on each other. He hoped they could move on from here, but one thing was for sure. They didn't need him in here for that.

"I'll be downstairs, if you need anything," he said, putting his hand on Tristan's shoulder on his way out the door.

He closed the door behind him, and Tristan stepped closer to the bed.

"Where did you have to go?"

He took a breath, silently willing her not to be mad. "I went to see your grandparents."

"Why?"

"Because she had to know that what she did, it was unconscionable; that she was going to burn in hell for that kind of thing."

"Tristan, that wasn't your place," she shook her head, her emotions in a flurry.

"Like hell it wasn't."

She looked up at him, his tone reminding her of something she'd forgotten long ago. She wasn't alone in this. She'd tried so hard to not need anyone. Not to need him.

He'd never taken himself off the table.

"So, what now?"

He stepped another stride closer. "You tell me."

"I need to get back to Stars Hollow. I have to go through Mom's will."

He nodded. He couldn't forget that this was not the only situation she was dealing with. Her mother's death was still looming over her, something she would be reeling from for quite some time.

"Is there anything I can do, to help?"

She continued to look at him, her expression hopeful. "You could be there for me."

When your heart breaks for the first time, the sound is deafening. The audible shatter so loud in your own ears, you're surprised the whole world doesn't stop and take notice. You rotate backwards on your own axis, as the world speeds ahead of you. After that, it happens effortlessly, instantly, and only takes your breath away.

He nodded, his promise to her.


	11. Closer

She sat staring at the papers in front of her, seemingly immobile since the last time he'd come in to check on her. He'd come in the kitchen, once an hour for the last four, announcing whatever he was 'needing', to no response from her.

This time it was a water refill. Job hunting online was making him thirsty. She nodded, the most of a retort she'd made since they arrived back in Stars Hollow. He set his glass down on the kitchen table and leaned over her shoulder.

"Staring at it won't make the words change."

"This is impossible. I'm supposed to decide everything."

"It doesn't have to be done right now."

"The Inn stuff does. And the house—Luke won't be gone forever. He'll come back, and I'm guessing he'd like to know where he's supposed to live."

"Why didn't she just give him the house?"

"She didn't want me to have to give up anything, if I didn't want to."

He nodded. "Are you going to stay here?"

She turned away from the papers to look at him. "I didn't intend to, but now, I don't really know."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Tristan, you don't have to stay around here just for me. You shouldn't feel obligated, I mean, unless you really want to," she rambled, and he put his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not leaving."

She smiled. "Good."

"Come on, it's time for a break," he pulled her chair out away from the table.

"This has to be done."

"You've been staring at those papers for four hours. You'll go blind. Come on, get your jacket. We'll take my car."

She knew he was right, staring at the decisions she had to make wasn't making them. She needed to let it sit with her for a while. She stood up, following him into the entryway and pulled her belongings off the rack.

xxxx

"Why are we now being welcomed by Massachusetts?"

"Because we just left Connecticut."

"Tristan, I thought by taking a break, you meant getting an ice cream cone or something."

"We can get ice cream where we're going. Well, on the way."

She looked at him, noting the amused look on his face. He used to do this to her all the time, knowing surprises and suspense drove her crazy. He liked to think of it as payback for her fueling his unending want. They should both suffer, after all.

"_So, are you actually kidnapping me, or is this some sort of leave of your mental capacities?"_

"_So, spur of the moment doesn't really work for you? I'll make a note of that."_

"_For future reference?"_

"_More for future attempts at obliterating your anal-retentive ways."_

_Her mouth hung open in a small 'O'. "I am not anally-retentive."_

"_You are when you don't have a plan. Relax, I'm driving, so you don't really need to know where we're headed, do you?"_

_She narrowed her eyes, and sat back in her seat. "You're so going to pay for this later."  
_

_He chuckled, continuing to flip through the radio stations without a care. Her version of 'payback' usually included something that made his blood run hot and body ache. He wasn't so worried._

"Rory?"

"Hmm?"

"You spaced out. You okay?"

She nodded, a faint smile on her face. "I was just thinking."

He nodded, figuring it was about Lorelai. "About your mom?"

"About us. We used to do this all the time."

"You mean I used to con you into getting in the car with me and taking you wherever I pleased," he corrected.

"Right," she smiled broader.

"Good to see you're still easily brainwashed by my good looks."

"And you've gotten more modest with time," she said, putting her hand on his arm. They were smiling stupidly at each other, and for the first time in days, she was completely in the moment. Her heart pounded a little harder than normal, just at touching him.

She withdrew her hand after a moment, and he cleared his throat. "Do you really want to know where we're going?"

"Are we stopping before we hit either water or Canada?"

He laughed. "Yes."

"Then I'm good with a surprise."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, clearly happy. "Good."

xxxx

He'd parked in a downtown garage, and they walked through the busy streets until they got a little bit out of the main downtown area. Ahead was a beautiful park, over looking the water. There were tons of people there, lying in the grass reading, tossing Frisbee's for their dogs, or just strolling arm in arm. Joggers moved past happy couples, and birds flew over them all out towards the water.

"I found it yesterday."

She turned to him, a bit confused. "You drove to Boston to bring me to a park?"

He shrugged. "I'm tired of wanting to share stuff with you and not being able to. I thought of you while I was here yesterday."

She smiled, looking at him as he looked out over the water. "Oh."

"Is that okay?" he looked at her now, the look in his eyes making her dizzy.

"Yeah."

"And there's a great place for dinner just up the way."

"Even better."

They began along the path that wound them closer to the water's edge, and she slipped her arm through his. They were unknown here—not the object of discussion, the tragic pair that had been pulled apart by circumstance. They were just two people, out for a stroll on a warm spring day. The wind fluttered through her hair, pushing it behind her as they walked into the light wind.

"Do we have to go back tonight?"

Her voice startled him—but not quite as much as her question surprised him. Not just her question, there was a familiar lilt to her tone that caused his stomach to tighten in anticipation.

"We can do whatever we want. We're just two unemployed adults," he reminded her.

"Oh my God. We are, aren't we?"

He nodded. "And so many had such high hopes for us."

She giggled. "We're bums."

"I can think of worse things to be."

"Technically, I'm just on a leave of absence from my job."

"Which would be what, exactly?"

"Feature reporter at the Times. My apartment and all my belongings are gathering dust in New York."

"You in New York. That's a sight."

"Hey, I can handle the big city."

"Not your thing, though."

She shrugged. "It's where the good jobs are."

"Work at a smaller paper."

"The story interest goes down with the size of the town. I don't want to be writing up a thousand words on why the run on baked beans nearly ripped apart the whole town."

"So, you aren't staying in Stars Hollow?" he joked.

She looked pensive, however. "I never planned on it—but how can I give up the house and lose all my connection to that place?"

He heard her voice break. He stopped their momentum, and turned her in towards him. A jogger had to swerve around them suddenly, not anticipating their random shift in path.

"If you give the house to Luke, he will always have his door open to you. And even if that house is demolished, you'll always have a connection to that place."

"You're right, it just seems so. . ."

"Final?"

"Yeah."

He nodded, and rubbed her arms with his hands, as if trying to warm her up. "She didn't leave it all up to you hoping you'd finish living her life for her. She wasn't that way."

"I know."

"She always wanted you to go for what you wanted."

"I know that, too," she said, exasperated. "Let's not talk about that now. Anything but," she said, looking into his eyes. He nodded, and they turned back to begin walking again.

"Actually, there is something I was wondering," he hedged.

"Shoot."

"It's personal."

"That's okay."

"You said before, that Connor was pressuring you about having kids."

"He was. He wanted to have a few, and thought we needed to start as soon as possible."

"And you didn't want to, or couldn't?"

She caught his meaning immediately. "Didn't want to."

"So, you're okay, I mean, nothing's wrong?"

"No, I'm fine. I can have kids, if I want to."

"So, you just don't want to?"

She took a deep breath. He was the only one that she could really say this to. It would have broken Connor's heart more than she needed to. It would have conveyed her inability to get over Tristan to the rest of her friends and family.

"When I found out I had been pregnant, I was terrified. Mostly of what it might have done to our plans, the disappointment of our families. But it also felt right, for you to be the one I shared that with."

His heart jumped in his chest. "Did he know, that you'd had a miscarriage?"

"No."

He looked at her, the wealth of details that she'd kept inside of her for so long open to him at his asking.

"You really didn't tell him about me at all?"

She shook her head. "I never told him a lot of things. He knew me from Africa on. He knew what he saw only, and I think I decided to marry him because of that. He didn't look at me and see all that I'd been through. He just saw me where I was. You always did that."

"I've never been able to take my eyes off of you long enough to notice anything else," he managed, their having come to the dock at the end of the path. Her breath caught in her throat at his words, and she stared at his lips.

He never needed anyone to alert him to the best juncture at which to kiss her.

He pulled her closer first, letting her scent reel him in. He closed his eyes with relief as his lips moved against hers for the first time in years. A tear rolled down her cheek, that of reprieve as well. She moved her hands to his cheeks, kissing him as hard as she could, as if she needed to make a lasting impression.

People around them smiled sweetly at the couple's ignorance of their surroundings. They probably wondered what brought forth such a public outpouring of affection, as he picked her up, not being able to pull her close enough into his embrace.

These were the words they hadn't spoken over the years.


	12. Ain't No Sunshine

AN: Wow, you guys and the reviews. I'm touched and overjoyed. I'm just so glad you're loving the non-fluff. I've had a bit of a time getting myself to write this chapter—I had the idea in my head, but somehow I was blocked in how to get it down in a coherent form. This is the final chapter—always my hardest to get to write in my favorite stories—I don't like letting them go. Enjoy.

The only thing that life seemed to be teaching her was the fact that you simply don't have the luxury of time in this world. Playing it safe and holding back emotions were a thing of the past. Her love for this man drove her to keep him as close as possible, from the moment her lips touched his on the end of the dock.

Dinner was forgotten, and they made their way to the nearest hotel. Upon reaching their room, he pulled her to him, fusing his lips with hers. She clung to him in a way she'd never before. Her arms around his shoulders, holding on as he lifted her up towards him, completely lost in her.

Gone were the worries about if the other was ready for this now, or if too much had time had passed. Too much time had passed, and both knew it. Nothing should have been able to rip them apart, but life wasn't always so cut and dry. Life had dragged them down, and pulled them in separate directions, but it had also brought them here to this moment in each others' arms.

Hope springs eternal in the hearts of true love. They were proof that it revives itself, having been bloodied and beaten, no worse for the wear. If anything, their love was stronger, more intense. It gripped them in a way it never had been before. Before it was want, desire, and love fueling their exchanges. Now it was need, flesh, and blood. It was beyond them.

He leaned back out of the kiss, looking at her face fully for the first time since they were in the park. Her lips were swollen, and slightly parted. Her breathing was audible, as her lungs begged for air. Her eyes—there was so much there. He saw past, present, and future swirling together. He wanted to tell her everything he was feeling, but he saw by looking into her eyes that he didn't have to. He dipped his head again, bruising her lips again with his.

"_I'm not going!" she yelled, slamming her bedroom door shut so hard it shook the wall surrounding it._

_Mumbling about not needing her house to fall down on top of dealing with the terrible teens, Lorelai advanced on her room, pulling the door open with just as much force._

"_God, can't you knock?"_

"_My house, my door, I'll do whatever I damn well please with it. What do you mean, you aren't going?"_

"_I'm sick," Rory glared at her mother, throwing herself down on the bed._

"_Rory, this is school. This is one-half your final grade in that stupid class. This is the reason my fingers have been numb for the last week! I've made all the freaking costumes for your presentation, and now you're telling me you aren't even going to go?"_

"_I don't feel up to it. They can cover my part."_

"_You're Juliet in Romeo and Juliet. How exactly will they cover without you?"  
_

"_I don't want to talk about this now."_

"_What happened?"_

_Rory sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can't see him now."_

"_Tristan?"_

_Rory nodded. They'd been dating for months now, and it'd been going really well. But that was over now. She couldn't face him, not tonight of all nights. _

"_What happened, I ask again, to no avail?"_

"_It's over, okay? It's over, and I can't go there and play Juliet to his Romeo. I can't."_

_Lorelai looked at her daughter, full of concern. She had to admit, she didn't like how cozy the two were all the time, and knew they were much closer than she ever really needed to know about. But she also knew they were crazy about one another, and for it to suddenly be 'over' was preposterous._

"_So, you had a fight?"_

"_It was more than a fight."_

"_So, you had a stupid fight, you'll make up, it'll be better than new."_

He lay her back on the bed, never breaking contact from her. He was afraid if he did, she'd slip out of his grasp. He needed her more than air at this point, to touch her to make sure they were both still alive. He heard her moan as he moved her shirt up and brushed his lips over her stomach, moving them at an agonizingly slow pace over to the curve of her hip. He sucked the skin there into his mouth, using his teeth to mark her. He remembered her body better than either of them could have expected, and he took his time reacquainting himself with her. She opened herself to him, tilting her head back as he moved further down her body.

_It hadn't been a stupid fight, at least it didn't seem that way now. It had been stupid, and it had been a fight, but it was more than that. This morning she'd gone to school ready to do a little bit of last minute preparation with Tristan after school and finally get this play project for English Lit class over with. They'd no longer have Paris breathing down their necks, about this at any rate. They were the perfect Romeo and Juliet, more than believable in the parts, and the best actors of the group. It would be an easy A, and everyone would go home happy. _

_Unfortunately, this wasn't how her day had gone._

"_I said something stupid, and he took it the wrong way. That's all."_

"_Sure, 'cause I believe that. What could you have said to make you not want to see him?"_

_Rory bit her lip, and looked up at her mother. "You don't want to know," she sighed. _

_It was true; while Lorelai had been mainly cool about her and Tristan's sexual relationship, it wasn't like she enjoyed hearing about it. They'd only been dating a few months when it'd begun. Rory came to her just this past summer and confided in her that they'd had sex for the first time. That they'd been safe, and it was her idea. Lorelai knew he cared for her, and that she couldn't really dictate these things. She was just glad they were being smart. _

"_Just take me step by step through it. It'll help, clear your mind."_

"_Okay. I went over there, to practice our lines one last time before our final rehearsal tonight."_

"_Which you're now officially late for," Lorelai reminded, to a glare from her daughter. "Sorry, continue."  
_

"_We started, and I lay down on the floor, so we could get into the 'death scene' position. He wasn't taking it seriously, which was fine, but he started kissing me, on his bedroom floor, and the door was open."_

_Lorelai nodded, holding in a cringe._

"_I told him that we needed to get this over with, and he agreed, but soon he was over me again, and I couldn't think. I can never think when he's touching me, and I just got so frustrated at myself and at him. I told him he was suffocating me, and all he could ever think about was sex."_

"_He didn't like that so much?" she asked, knowingly._

"_He got mad, and said that if he was suffocating me so much, I should just go and take a breather, and I accused him of only wanting to be with me for sex," she cried._

"_Oh, honey," she said, seeing the guilt wave up on her daughter._

"_I knew it wasn't true, but I couldn't take it back. I didn't mean to say it, it just got so out of control!"_

She couldn't feel where she ended and he began, she just knew that no one had ever evoked the sensations in her body that he could. She ran her nails down over his chest, feeling the waves of pleasure sweep over her. She knew she was soon to be caught in his tidal wave, or him in hers—it never mattered.

"_Mom, I can't face him now. I left, and I shouldn't have, I should have stayed, but he was so mad, and I was frustrated. How did this happen?"_

"_You'll talk, you'll work it out. We have to go now, or you'll fail. You can't let a boy get in the way of your education. You'll get through the scene, you'll talk to him, and you'll work it out. You two are better than this, to let something come between you like that."_

_Rory nodded, wiping the tears away from her face. Her mother was right; she knew in her heart that she was falling in love with him. She was terrified—to say it and to feel it. She didn't want to lose him, and now she'd driven him away. She just wanted to be back in his arms. _

_It was the only place she would have relief._

"Tristan," she cried, gripping his shoulders as he held onto her waist. He buried his head in her shoulder, not wanting to feel anything but her. He moved to kiss her again moments later, as they continued to hold onto each other.

"I'm scared," she breathed, and he held her head against his chest as they continued to fall back down to earth.

_She ran into the school, dressed in her Elizabethan gown, her mother trailing behind her. She had to find the group, who no doubt would be livid at her for missing rehearsal. _

"_WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!"_

"_I'm sorry Paris, I got caught up. I'm here. I haven't missed it," she reminded her._

"_You better know your lines perfectly, Gilmore, or I swear to God," she continued, but Rory paid her no attention. Her eyes found Tristan, dressed in his costume as well, leaning against the far wall. _

"_Do you hear me, we're on next!"_

"_I hear you."_

"_Whatever. Just answer me."_

"_What?"_

"_You know your lines?"_

"_Yes, Paris. I know the lines," she said, moving away from her annoying friend and trying to get to Tristan. She approached him slowly, and he watched her. His features remained stoic, not giving her any visual clues to his state of mind, other than indifference. _

"_Tristan, I need to talk to you," she began, her voice full of remorse._

"_Come on, we're on!" Paris barked, and Tristan moved to follow her. Rory sighed and followed reluctantly, not wanting to do anything but talk to him. She felt like it was now or never. _

_Suddenly they were on a darkened stage, and she reached out for him in the shadows. "Tristan," she whispered. "I have to talk to you."_

"_Are you insane? This isn't the time."_

"_But I have to tell you," she pleaded until the lights came up. They began their lines, an obvious tension between them that hooked the onlookers. People were instantly drawn to the scene in a way that they hadn't been in the other high school productions. _

_She fought tears the whole time, thinking how ironic it was that they were doing the death scene at a time like this. Here their whole relationship was hanging in the balance and they were performing the most tragic love scene of all time. _

"_Thus with a kiss, I die," she heard his words, and now his face hovered over hers. She opened her eyes, and she could practically hear Paris' stroke, and as soon as she saw the trepidation and concern mirrored in his eyes, she closed hers again. He took his time, barely pressing his warm lips into hers at first, and then she felt his hand on her cheek. A tear slipped out of her closed eye, rolling towards his hand. He put a hand on her waist, squeezing gently before laying his head down on her chest, as choreographed, but she felt a nuzzle that wasn't. He was holding her to him, and the lights dimmed as another tear escaped her eyes. There was a thunderous applause, and the curtain came down. _

He moved to look into her eyes, nodding softly. "We were supposed to get back to each other. We weren't supposed to be apart. It all went wrong," he said.

"I know," she nodded, not wanting to look away from him.

"There were things we couldn't control, too much. I just wanted to be with you," he said honestly. "That was all I ever wanted. It's what I want now."

"I can't bear to lose you again."

He kissed her softly. He stroked her hair with one hand. "I love you. I've never stopped."

"I love you, too."

_He moved up from her chest after lingering there for a moment. She opened her eyes that now glistened from the buildup of extra moisture. _

"_Don't cry."_

"_I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, any of it. I was just," she began desperately._

"_Shh, it's okay. You were frustrated, and I wouldn't quit," he helped her._

"_No, it's not okay, Tristan, I just got scared, I," she gulped back a sob, hating that he was seeing her like this._

_He silenced her with another kiss, this one not stage-worthy. It might have gotten them expelled, in fact. His open mouth met hers, soothing her worries and overriding the harsh words they'd exchanged. _

"I need you with me. I got offered the job here in Boston. I want you to come with me."

She gasped slightly, not expecting to hear him say these things. "Are you serious?"

"I can't lose you again. I want you to come with me, move up here."

"Don't you want to think about this, what you're saying," she let out a breath, wanting to make sure they weren't out of their minds making huge decisions on a whim.

Only she knew it wasn't a whim. It was their lifeline, it was the only thing they'd found to be real.

"I want us to be the ones to decide."

She nodded, knowing in this instant that this is what she wanted. To be with him, out of New York. The Inn would be sold off to Sookie and Michel, as was right. The house given to Luke, so she would always be welcomed back. Her home was where ever he was now, and in her heart, it always had been.

"You'll come?"

"I want to be with you, wherever that is," she nodded again.

She'd barely gotten the words out as his lips crashed into hers yet again.

Lessons learned the hard way are always the most valuable, immeasurable in their wealth. Time is layered; it unravels easily, but is too interwoven to be permanently undone. That what should be will, and nothing truly felt in the heart can be dismissed or denied. There is no escape from the truth of true love. Pain dwells in those who try; freedom attained only by those who allow themselves to succumb.


End file.
